


blood and bone

by verathion



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Original Work
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-28
Updated: 2019-03-05
Packaged: 2019-10-18 01:28:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 32,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17571716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verathion/pseuds/verathion
Summary: The Greyblades have saved the world from utter destruction. But, for Kuroe and Ariadne, adjusting to a domestic, stagnant life proves to be more challenging than killing a god.This is a project for a friend.





	1. choices in stone

Death is something Kuroe has never feared. There were times he wished for it, begged for it—but never out loud. He could never reveal that sort of weakness, not at the hands of that damn mage, and not in the presence of others. But, given his nature, death is something that is realistic, logical. It’s something he’s had to come to grips with for a long time. It’s something that he was ready for. After all, he has been dead before.

Finding himself in this weightless state that can only be described as death is familiar to him. As he opens his eyes, he is surrounded by a familiar darkness, a darkness he once called home. His senses are hazy, and as he brings up a hand to rub his eyes, he hears the footsteps of a familiar gait. He sits up and sees her walking to him, clothed in black-feathers and crown adorned with stars. Her thin arms reach out to him, tucking a small piece of hair behind his ear.

“You did well,” her voice is dark, concealed behind a veil of darkness. “I am proud of you.”

“So I died.” Kuroe sighs. “Not surprised.”

“You took on a goddess.” Her hands, slim with long, black nails, cup his face. “Be proud.”

“I am proud to be back.” He says. “I was ready, I think.”

She sighs, the sound like a chill winter wind. With a twirl of her long, black cloak, she turns and walks towards her perch, where she beckons him. He is bound to her in a way he cannot understand, so when she beckons, he comes, there is no choice in the matter. Not like he would choose to stay when she calls. As he makes his way to her, she points to a mirror next to her, and he is familiar with it: she showed him that this mirror is one of the many ways she connects to the material plane.

“Do you wish to see what happened?” She asks, long, bony fingers fanning out. “To your friends?”

He laughs lowly.

“No.”

Images begin playing on the mirror despite his wishes, and he cannot help but glance over. He sees Tiamat’s large body, limp and lifeless, and troops cheering around the display. The mirror senses his attention, and it flashes, showing the Greyblades: Balasar is broken, but alive, using every bit of his power to help those that were injured; Bruce, being Bruce, begins to search through the bodies of the fallen enemies, pocketing what seems valuable; Zakarot is…searching, with a purpose. Kuroe is too smart to know what this means, and before the mirror flashes in accordance to his mind’s flow, he looks at his Queen.

“Where is she?” He asks, flatly. “Did she end up in the Nine Hells?”

The Raven Queen cocks her head in curiosity.

“You care for the necromancer’s whereabouts?”

Kuroe blinks, and he realizes that his hands are in tight fists. He releases them.

“No.” He lies.

“Why?”

Kuroe takes a deep breath.

“I just want to know where her soul ended up.”

“You should know that all necromancers belong in the Nine Hells.”

His hands make fists again.

“Forgive my insubordination, but I don’t think she belongs there.”

She laughs.

“Why?”

“Ariadne is not a servant of Orcus, just…a servant of knowledge.” He defends her, saying her name in a small act of protest.

The Raven Queen adjusts her position in her perch.

“Then you shall be happy to know that she is not in the Nine Hells. In fact, she is not dead. She is with you.”

Kuroe’s brow furrows.

“What do you mean?”

A long, bony finger points to the mirror again, and Kuroe sees Ariadne, bloodied and bruised, riding through the streets of Djisou with his body strapped behind her. The half-elf brings her arm up to wipe some tears away from her face.

He turns back to the Raven Queen with a raised brow.

“Why are you showing me this?” He asks.

“Because I know her intent,” she sighs, “and you have a choice.”

~~~~

“Hello?” Ariadne calls out to the entrance of the temple. “I need help, please!”

Two Kenku priests peek their heads out from the entrance, look at each other, and cock their heads with curiosity. Ariadne hops off the back of her stolen horse and approaches them carefully.

“I need help,” she says. “Please—my friend.”

They commune with each other in a series of clicks and coos, and finally after some hesitation, they walk over to her to help her bring Kuroe’s body off Ariadne’s horse.

“Be careful,” she whispers under her breath, brow furrowed. The two of them distribute the weight of the half-breed under their wings, and they hurry to carry him inside.

“Dead,” one of them clicks, and when she realizes that they are asking a question, she responds.

“Yes,” She says, following them with haste.

“How?” The other one clicks.

“Saving the world.” She responds flatly, watching them carry his body over to an altar. They place him upon it, and light candles around him.

“Might not work.” One says as they look to her. “Might not want to.”

It has been a few hours since his fall, and Ariadne has been strong throughout. She always knew there would be a chance that this is what he wanted. Then, there’s the very mysterious nature of the Raven Queen. Would she even let him come back? She suspected this, for sure, but hearing it was harder than she thought it’d be. She was determined, however, to to bring him to a place he’d prefer. The half-elf knew he'd have choice words if he came back to life in a temple of Bahamut.

The Kenku light some incense and begin their ritual. It’s a bit different than temple resurrection rituals she has read about in the past; they’re conversations with a deity, an initiation of an exchange, a contract. But, this is more like a trial. The Kenku are projecting their souls into the Shadowfell; she can tell by the look in their eyes. For a moment, a chill washes over her, one that’s eerily familiar: the chill of the Shadowfell that surrounded her when she went there herself with Kuroe. It’s unnatural; no one should feel this cold in the middle of the desert. The veil must be thin.

The priests stay like this for hours, and Ariadne is sure to stay still and respectful. The last thing she wants to do is disrupt the ritual or show any disrespect. After a while, the Kenku begin clicking, cooing, chirping, communing with one another. Their souls, still in the Shadowfell, are talking to someone. Ariadne can’t tell who it is, but at this point, she stands, slowly making her way to the altar. She is careful to not disturb any of the candles or herbs or incense, but she places a hand on Kuroe’s cold cheek.

“Kuroe,” she says softly. “I’m sorry I couldn’t do better to help you.”

At this point, her tears flow freely.

“I’m sorry for all the times I was an asshole to you. And I was a pretty big asshole. I’m sorry for all the times I called you a mutt, all the times I didn’t trust you. But even though I treated you so poorly, you continued to save my life, and I…I can’t…I can’t let you die this time. Maybe next time. But not this time.”

The priests’ chatter begins to intensify, and Ariadne’s eyes dart up to them before coming back down to Kuroe.

“Please. I promise, it’s just this once. I won’t do it again. Just this once.”

Suddenly, the chattering stops, and Kuroe’s eyes jolt open with a gasp of air. Ariadne jolts back, giving him the space he needs once she realizes just how close she ways to him. He coughs a little and groans in pain, and the priests hand Ariadne a cup of water to give to him.

“Kuroe,” she says softly. “Kuroe, take this.”

Before he reaches his hand out, he scans his surroundings, eyes eventually falling on her. Her face is streaked as the tears cut their way through the ash and blood on her face, and she sniffles a little as she waits for him to take the cup. He does, taking a few large gulps before coughing a bit more, and Ariadne can’t help but cry again: he’s back. He came _back_.

“Where are we?” He asks.

“Djisou.”

He lets the information marinate for a bit.

“Tiamat?”

“Dead.”

“Who killed her?”

She shrugs.

“I don’t really know.”

“Unacceptable.”

Ariadne laughs at that, tucking a bit of her dirty hair behind her ear. His strange humor, and the fact that she almost never laughed at it again, makes tears form at the edge of her eyes again, and the sight of them falling down her cheeks causes him to clear his throat.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Ariadne asks, wiping the tears away.

“For making you, uh, cry.”

The half-elf turns bright red, then shakes her head.

“No, no, it’s—it’s fine. It’s just been a day, you know. Let's get out of here, yeah?”

Ariadne turns to the Kenku and gives them a handful of platinum, to which they click and crow with happiness. They bow to her and to Kuroe and then leave the main chamber. Kuroe tries to get up but struggles, so Ariadne is quick to shuffle over to him and help him off the altar. His bones and muscles are stuff as life begins to seep its way back into them. That’s something that can’t be helped with the aid of magic, Ariadne thinks, but only time. With his arm over her shoulders, he limps outside to her horse, and she laughs when she tells him the story about how she stole it in order to get him to the temple. With a shake of his head and a sly smile, he mounts the horse, then extends a hand to help her up. The half-elf takes the reins and leads the horse to a local inn that is familiar to them from their previous stay.

“Is everyone else here?” Kuroe asks once he dismounts the horse.

Ariadne sighs.

“They are still at the mountain, most likely.”

His ears twitch at the change of her tone.

“Why?”

“I kinda…left them there.”

Ariadne attempts to walk into the inn so she doesn’t have to continue the conversation, but when she sees Kuroe standing his ground, she groans.

“Balasar ran out of spells. Everyone was telling me to give it up, to let you die a hero.”

“Why didn’t you?”

Ariadne huffs.

“Because if any of us deserves to live a hero, it’s you. Not me, not Bal, not Callie or Bruce or Zack. You. I wanted to give you the chance to get the recognition you deserve. Anyways, their hesitation made me angry, so I made a portal and teleported here without them. Told ‘em we’d meet them in Waterdeep.”

“You were confident that I would come back?”

“I don’t know, Kuroe. I just wanted to try. I think you deserved that. I know you would have tried for me. Why did you come back, then?”

Kuroe’s brow furrows, the gears in his mind turning.

“I can’t remember much. I do remember I was given a choice. I guess I chose this.”

Ariadne turns back to the horse, tears falling from her face one more time as she ties it to the railing.

“That’s good to hear.” She says, trying her best to conceal the act of wiping the tears from her face. No more crying after this; her eyes are too sore from crying as it is. “Anyways, I figured we could rest here for a few days before going back to Waterdeep.”

“You look like you need it.” Kuroe says.

Ariadne laughs.

“You’re the one that died. I think you need a real rest and not a permanent one.”

~~~~

“No, that’s not right.”

Ariadne uses her stick of charcoal to strike through a thought in her journal with a tinge of anger. It’s been a week since the defeat of Tiamat, and to pass the time, she’s been trying her hand at writing spells. The half-elf thought that it shouldn’t be all that hard, considering that she is a spellcaster. It’s proving to be a little harder than she thought. Quickly, she draws a near-perfect circle, sketching glyphs all around. The sound of her furious scribbles fill her ears, and it’s so loud, she can’t hear the floorboards move as someone approaches.

“Hey, Ari,” a familiar voice calls to her. “Are you coming?”

The half-elf looks up after taking a sip of mead.

“Coming? Where am I going?”

Kuroe and Balasar stand before her, and the former rolls his eyes at Ariadne’s aloofness. It has been a while since Kuroe and Ariadne came back to Waterdeep. It took Kuroe a while to get used to being alive again, which Ariadne understood, but he was eager to get back to Waterdeep as soon as he felt up to himself. It was simple enough for Ariadne to teleport them back, and upon her return, she was quick to give Balasar the cold shoulder for a bit. However, she soon got over this, seeing as how she knows there was nothing he could do at the time.

“To see the fort we were gifted.” The dragonborn continues. “You know, the one we got for killing Tiamat.”

“Oh,” Ariadne says, stuffing the stick of charcoal in a small satchel on her belt before dusting the debris off her hands. She closes her journal and slips it into her bag of holding before continuing. “Sure.”

“You sound so excited!” Balasar’s sarcasm is as biting as ever. “Well, if you’re coming, we have to leave soon. It’s a two hour journey, and the groundskeeper is waiting for us to get there.”

“Fine, fine,” Ariadne finishes off her mead. “Let’s go.”

They gather together some money and rent a horse and an uncovered wagon and set off. The fort in question is about twenty miles from Waterdeep, at the base of the Sword Mountains. From what the letter said when Balasar received it, it was built around two-hundred years ago, but never really used. Apparently, the Lord of Waterdeep—a mysterious figure, as most Lords of Waterdeep are—kept it clean and taken care of in the meantime. He had hoped that it would be used during the siege against Tiamat, but when the Dragon Queen shifted her eyes to the East, and then defeated, he decided that gifting it to the Greyblades wasn’t such a bad idea. Balasar was eager to accept. The rest of them didn’t really have a say, but Ariadne thought it would be a good idea to have a hub to be their base of operations, seeing as how they decided to stay together after The Fall.

The journey is rather pleasant, and the three of them talk of various things: past battles, where the other members are, and plans for the future. Balasar says that Calliope has decided to create a rapport in the surrounding towns, so she’s been spreading her wings and tunes throughout the area. Ariadne says that she enrolled Zackarot into a local wizardry school, and that he was doing fairly well performance wise. Discipline wise? Not so much. When asked about Bruce, Kuroe says that he heard him mention something about training, but doesn’t know exactly where he is. Ariadne shrugs. Typical.

As they come upon the fort, they find that it is on a plateau that has rather beautiful scenery. Ariadne hops out of the cart and looks in all directions—to the west, from how high up they are, she can see the ocean; to the north, she can see dense pine forests and mountains dominating the skyline; to the east, she sees beautiful green rolling hills; and to the south, she sees flat marshland leading to Waterdeep.

“Not a bad vantage point,” Balasar says, and suddenly a cold breeze nearly slices through Ariadne’s skin, and she shivers.

“I think soldiers would find it too cold to attack this fort anyways.” The half-elf turns to Kuroe to find him sifting around in the back of the cart for something. “What do you think, Kuroe?”

The half-breed pulls his hand up to offer Ariadne a fur for an extra layer of warmth. She takes it with a smile and a bit of a giggle, cheeks beginning to flush in defense of the cold. Quickly, she wraps it around her shoulders.

“Balasar is right.” He says as he takes a good look at the fort. “The fortifications seem decent, and the location is pretty good. We could see anyone coming from three directions, and it’d be suicide to come from the mountains.”

“Yep,” Balasar says. “For a two-century old fort, it looks like it’s in good condition.”

“Aye!” A voice resounds from behind them. “That’ll be my doing. I’m Othall, the groundskeeper of this fort. And you lot must be the Greyblades.”

“Indeed,” Balasar says, extending a hand out to the stocky dwarf. “I’m Balasar, the leader. This looks-like-a-necromancer-and-actually-is half-elf is Ariadne, and that thing over there is Kuroe. There are others, but they are doing different things that aren’t important. So, understand that us three are the important ones, me being the most important.”

Othall shakes his hand with a hearty laugh.

“Pleasure to meet ye all. Well, a little information about your new property: you practically own the entire plateau, which is around twenty-five acres. The fort itself is about two centuries old, but it has been unoccupied for most of its life, albeit well taken care of. It’s a small fort, not meant for a large garrison, but about one hundred soldiers. The two main barracks could be converted into dining rooms and ball rooms, if ye’d like. The kitchens are fully functional, and I can get the staff from the local village to come work it for ye. Other than there are about thirteen rooms, two of which are rooms meant for libraries, one of which is meant for a reading room. If ye need be, I can shift some stuff around in order to better accommodate yer needs.”

Ariadne digs her boot in the dirt as he’s talking, mind clearly not on this planet. Kuroe nudges her in the side with his elbow, and she comes to.

“Well, I think that about covers it. Would ye like to follow me and take a wee tour of the place?”

The three of them nod in response, and with a flair of excitement, Othall turns on his heel and leads the way. The plateau is high and steep, and the only way to get up is a large ramp that zig-zags its way to the top. Ariadne is pleased at the sturdiness of it, considering the fact that the cart can make its way up the ramp with ease. Othall says something about how he wants to reinforce the ramp with stones now that it will be used more often. Once they reach the top, the fort is only a short walk away from the edge. The outside is paved with dark stone, and though it is two centuries old, there is very little weathering.

“The windows,” Kuroe muses. “They’re pretty big for a fort.”

“Aye,” Othall laughs. “The fort was built by a noble, who had very little knowledge in the workings of war and battle. Part of me thinks he just wanted to build a summer home, but changed his mind half way through. You’ll see what I mean.”

As they walk up to the fort, the gate is large and made of sturdy oak. Othal opens the wicket gate to reveal the main courtyard, which is massive, well kept, and filled with practice equipment that has been unused. However, it doesn’t look as old as the rest of the place.

“I don’t know much about yer specific needs,” Othall begins. “But I do know adventurers. I outfitted the courtyard meself. Now, if you’ll follow me, the rest of the staff is this way.”

In the center of the courtyard stands two dwarves and two halflings, standing at attention with smiles on their faces. The two dwarves turn out to be Othall’s daughters, Œda and Onthine, and the two halflings are from the nearest village, Canonswede. Their names are Effie and Edgar, and they operate the kitchens. Œda and Onthine are in charge of keeping the fort trim and tidy. The Greyblades shake their hands and introduce themselves, and after a bit of talking, they are dismissed, and Othall gives the trio free reign upon the place.

“It’s yours,” he says. “Go walk around and get a feel for it. Meet me in the courtyard whenever you’re finished.”

Ariadne watches as her two companions part from her side. Balasar walks with Onthall and asks him more and more questions about the history of this place, and Onthall’s personal history. Kuroe disappears behind a door somewhere, and Ariadne sighs, looking up and around for some sort of direction. With a shrug, she just walks, wandering aimlessly through the fort. The architecture on the inside is extravagant and nice, and she wonders if the noble planned on building an estate, but ran out of money to do so. Exposed beams of dark-stained oak provide a lot of the structure for the walls and ceilings, and a white stucco is smeared on the inside walls in an attempt to make it feel a little more…homey? Is that the word? At any rate, it looks nice. Ariadne runs her hands along the walls, the texture of the stucco creating a nice friction under her fingers. She does this along the length of the hall, until she turns a corner.

In the northwest side of the fort, there are many doors leading to many rooms. She pops her head into each of them, looking for any sort of room to claim for her own. After a while of searching, she finds the one: a corner room on the north side of the fort with a good view of the mountains. It’s simply furnished, with just a bed, a dresser and a washbasin. It’s the fireplace that sells her, though. She always wanted a room with a fireplace. As her hand runs across the wooden mantle, painful memories begin to fill her mind, and she thinks of thoughts that haven’t crossed her mind in a long time. A tear falls down her face when he hears someone enter.

“Are you…crying?” Kuroe’s voice comes from behind her. Quickly, she wipes her face, and she turns to him.

“No.”

“Uh huh. You do that a lot lately.”

Ariadne sighs, thinking of how to best describe what she’s feeling. “I once dreamed of having a home, you know. But, it was taken from me.”

“And you mean…?”

“My fiancé. My mother and I jumped from place to place, mostly because she couldn’t afford to stay in one place for very long, what with her being sick all the time and shit. After that, I was an apprentice. He used to call me the daughter he never had, but he wouldn’t ever treat me like one. I had to work to earn his love. Even at a young age, I knew that wasn’t how love worked. Then, I found him. It was an accident—I ran into him and dropped all my books, you know, typical meet-cute. He was the adopted son of the local healer, and he taught me a lot of things. I think that’s why I grew to love him so much—here I was working my ass off to learn what I could from this wizard outside of the village, whereas this guy just gave it to me. I’d ask what this did, and he’d tell me. It was as simple as that.” Ariadne stops for a moment to collect herself, wiping a few tears from her face again.

“It doesn’t matter anymore. He’s gone, and I have to move on somehow. This is my home now, just…not the one I expected.”

“I get that,” he says. “The last place I felt like home was—well, in that place that cannot be mentioned around you.”

She shivers. “Yes, yes. Well, maybe we can figure out this whole belonging thing together.”

Kuroe blinks, watching as she runs her hands along the mantle once more.

“Maybe so.”


	2. trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kuroe and Ariadne still struggle with their new lives.

Darkness.

Ariadne is no stranger to darkness. She’s seen her fair share of dank dungeons, caves beneath the earth, and nights that seemed like they’d never end. But, this type of darkness was like none she had ever experienced. It was a darkness she could feel, deep in her soul, inking through her skin, bonding with her bones. It was a darkness that she could not shake, a darkness that swallowed her whole, a darkness that would never truly leave her.

Her trip to the Shadowfell, which started out as an innocent endeavor, has haunted her ever since. The sounds, the smells, the complete and utter numbness of that fucking darkness always hides in the back of her mind. When she closes her eyes, it’s there. When she goes to sleep, it’s there. She can’t get rid of it, and it’s become an unwelcome part of her at this point. She’s used to the nightmares. She’s used to the sleepless nights. This is fine.

In her dream state, she finds herself on that dark path in that dark place. In her mind, she knows she has been here before. She knows what to do. She knows how this goes. But, her body doesn’t react. Her body trembles in absolute fear, sweat dripping down her brow even though the air is cold as ice. Sounds emit from the shadow around her, hungry and angry and terrifying. For the first time in a long time, her knowledge is of no aid to her. Everything here is foreign to her. 

But, there is one thing that is constant. 

“Ari,” a voice says. The sound is warm and and familiar.

“K—Kuroe?”

Large hands reach out and take her by the shoulders. In that moment, the darkness clears from her eyes, and she sees the face of her friend, Kuroe, white hair beaming through the darkness like a beacon. 

“Kuroe.”

Dawn saves her from falling back into the darkness, and she gasps as she comes back to her waking state. A small blessing escapes her lips, thanking whatever gods were listening that she didn’t go back to that place again, thanking them that she got just a few minutes of peaceful rest. It’s ironic, really, that she is closer to the gods than ever before after being in a place where no gods could hear her scream. After a short sigh, she throws the blankets off her, setting her feet onto the cold stone floor which really grounds her to the current plane. As she stands, the sun begins to peak over the horizon and through her window, illuminating her shift to reveal the small silhouette that lies beneath. Ariadne stretches, basking in the warmth of the sunlight as it sinks into her bones. She laces her fingers together, twisting her arms to bring her elbows inward, causing the joints in her fingers to crackle like firecrackers. With a satisfied sigh, she continues to get ready to make her way down to the kitchens for breakfast. 

It’s been a while since she’s been home, and she still has trouble calling it that. But, as she walks down the hall, she runs her finger along the plaster. This time, though, there are wall hangings and tapestries in her way. It seems the rest of them have settled in nicely. Part of her wishes she never left so that she could have been a part of the process, but she was right—being stationary was strange for her. It took about a week for her to wander into Waterdeep and search the job board. She chose something simple and solitary: a local wizard wanted someone to fetch an artifact for his studies. He laughed when she told him she’d take the job. She laughed at his expression when she returned a month later.

In the end, Ariadne regretted her decision. It seemed like traveling alone was just not her style anymore. Not only did she almost die a few times--not her fault--her nightmares began to resurface. It’s not comfortable for her knowing that she has such a debilitating weakness nowadays.

As she makes her way to the kitchen, she sees Balasar and Kuroe sitting there, acting out some sort of battle from the past. When they see her enter, Balasar slams the table, shaking some of the apples arranged on a bowl in the center. 

“Well I’ll be damned, she lives.” He says with a smile. “Where’ve you been?”

“Around,” she says, reciprocating the smile. “I went on a little adventure by myself.”

Kuroe angrily bites a bit of dried meat, but she doesn’t notice.

“Where did you go?” Balasar asks.

“A mage in Waterdeep was in search of a certain artifact for his studies. I offered to help him find it.” She says, grabbing a few things to eat. “It was a fairly easy trip for a couple hundred gold pieces.”

“Good to hear,” Kuroe pipes up, eyes focused on his plate.

“Well, it’s good to have you back.” Balasar says. “Maybe you can help us with all of the mediation we have to do.” 

“Mm?” She says, chewing an apple.

“A lot of people have come by to ask us for help with various things, specifically from the local village. We’ve been trying to hold meetings in the Great Hall in order to go through all of the requests.” Bal explains. “But, there are a lot of requests.” 

“Yikes,” she says.

“When we took residence here, we took up responsibility for the surrounding people.” Kuroe says, rather curtly. 

“Yeah, pretty much.” Balasar agrees. “It’s hard, considering the amount of requests. A lot of it is beyond our abilities, too, considering we aren’t the most versed on fixing farm equipment.” 

“You mean to tell me,” Ariadne says, interrupting herself to take a sip of water, “that there’s something you cannot do?”

“No, not me, _we_ ,” Balasar is quick to correct. “And _I_ can’t do it all by myself.” 

Ariadne laughs, and Balasar says some other things about what she’s missed, but Kuroe can’t help but be annoyed. He’ll never forget the morning when he woke up and she had just disappeared—the anger and disappointment, mixed with a strange tinge of sadness. He doesn’t like feeling that way. Suddenly, his train of thought is broken when Balasar gets up and excuses himself from the table, claiming he has something more important to do. It’s probably true, but his tone of superiority can always be worked on. When he leaves, it’s just the two of them at the table, and Kuroe watches Ariadne closely as she brings out a book from her bag to read as she eats. Kuroe notices a few cuts on her fingers that are now healing nicely, and he clicks his tongue. Ariadne sighs, without taking attention from her book. 

“How’d you get those?” he asks, not looking up from his plate.

Ariadne looks up to him and then to her hands, and she laughs. 

“Bramble bushes.” She replies, flipping a page. 

He grunts in response, causing Ariadne to squint.

“You seem annoyed this morning.”

He smiles, but it’s not a joking smile, more like one made in a deflective manner. Kuroe wipes his hand under his nose before he finally looks at her, yellow eyes biting. 

“You just left,” he says. “I am annoyed with that, yes.” 

Ariadne huffs defensively.

“I didn’t know I needed to tell you where I am at all times.” 

With a shake of his head, he stands, walking over to the water basin to fetch more for himself. But the words can’t wait, and he turns to face her, leaning against the countertop for support.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.” He begins, setting down his cup before he even sips from it. “You could have got yourself killed.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“No, you can’t.” 

Ariadne’s brows furrow as she fully takes her attention away from her book, placing her hands neatly in front of her as she gathers her thoughts. 

“I’m sorry?” 

“I know you can’t protect yourself. Your magic is powerful, but _you_ are weak. If your magic is taken away, what can you do?”

“I didn’t ask for your opinion.”

“You asked why I was annoyed, didn’t you?”

“Not really,” she says as she tucks a strand of black hair behind her pointed ear. “I made a statement, but I didn’t ask.” 

“Well it’s something you need to hear, since you’re clearly not over your time in the Shadowfell.”

At that, Ariadne shuts her book abruptly. 

“What are you talking about?” Her voice is low.

“Another part of a reason I’m annoyed is because I couldn’t sleep last night. You were screaming at the top of your lungs in your sleep. Since we live on the same hall, it was hard to ignore.”

Ariadne’s face goes pale as she averts her gaze from him. She’s clearly embarrassed, but rage bubbles up from beneath her chest. 

“I can’t help it.” Are the only words she can muster to say. “I can’t help it, Kuroe.”

“Yes you can. Be stronger.” 

The half-elf stands suddenly, causing her chair to push back loudly. She grabs her book and turns to him one last time before leaving. 

“I’m trying.” Ariadne says, voice on the edge of sob and seethe. Then, she turns on her heel and walks out, and as she leaves the room, Kuroe sighs, throwing his head back before bringing it down into his hands. 

“Not your finest moment,” he tells himself, rubbing remnants of sleep from his eyes. “Not your finest moment indeed, Kuroe.” 

Since coming back to the material plane, Kuroe has had a hard time coming to grips with where he falls in this world. Truly, he just wishes he could understand why the Raven Queen gave him a choice instead of making the decision herself. Truly, he just wishes he remembered why he chose to come back. Part of him wonders if he had foreseen the turmoil he has been under since his resurrection, would he have still made the same decision? _No_ , he thinks. _That’s weak_. The Raven Queen, ever mysterious and ever wise, gave him a choice because she trusts him. She gave him a choice because he knew that he could do good either way. Or, at least he hopes so; it’d be awfully shitty if she gave him the choice to suffer, though maybe that’s a test in itself.

Suffering isn’t even really the right word to say—well, maybe it is. Kuroe has always been one to rein in on his emotions, to control them in order to make logical decisions. One of the main reasons he hasn’t done the exact same thing Ariadne did is that he has been beleaguered with with emotions he cannot control. He thinks that, if he were to go out and do what he does best, he wouldn’t be able to perform at his best. These emotions in question? They all center around a certain half-elf and her bad attitude. That is what makes him so uncomfortable. That is what causes him to suffer. It’s been a long time since he’s felt this way about someone, and what hurts is that it makes no sense; it holds no footing.

For him, though, it does. And, though his memories before the most recent death are chunky and hazy as a side-effect of crossing planes, he knows exactly where they came from: the Shadowfell. The stupid fucking Shadowfell. Knowing what he knows now, he wishes that she never agreed to help him. Back then, Kuroe was sure that he would have to jump through hoops in order for her to agree to it. To his surprise, she agreed fairly easily. That was the second moment he truly knew that she trusted him.

The first moment he knew was when she removed that fucking necklace. When he first started traveling with the Greyblades—before they called themselves that—they didn’t trust him. So much so that Ariadne cruelly bound him with a magical necklace in order to subdue him. It was humiliating for him, as she had taken his own hair in order to make it. Then, one night in Waterdeep, she came to his room, made him drink a terrible tasting concoction, reached up, and snapped the necklace off him before walking away. As he watched the amber beads roll across the wooden floor of the inn, a spark lit in his chest that he couldn’t explain, even though it kept growing.

That spark grew when she happily agreed to help him in his quest. It was unexpected and kind. When they were in the Shadowfell, he felt…dirty taking advantage of her kindness. He didn’t think he could properly prepare her for the horrors she would experience, but then, he didn’t think that she would be affected so greatly. She’s a necromancer, after all; she’s used to the nastier side of things, the dark and depraved. But, the look on her face when they came back, the way she would stay dangerously close to the campfires they set up at night, the way she slept during the day while they traveled…he knew. He knew that she was scarred. He doesn’t know if he can ever forgive himself.

But, what can’t be overlooked is how much it meant to him. She sacrificed her sanity for him. Kuroe’s quest to preserve the innocence of this dragon egg meant more to him than he could have ever explained to Ariadne. Yet she still agreed. Yet she still came. Yet she stayed with him, arms gripping at his back as they travelled through the Shadowfell, blind to what was around her, trusting his instincts to lead her through. When they came back, the spark in his chest was so warm and large he could barely stand it. When he came back from death, it was the first thing he felt when he came to consciousness. And now, it drives him nearly insane with grief. She will never know just how much she means to him, and he makes it a point to hide it as much as he can. It’s getting harder, though. He whispers a prayer in hopes that it will subside.

His hands begin to itch, and with a sigh, he runs his hands on his face one last time before exiting the kitchen. He feels the need to hit something with a large sword.

 

~~~~

 

Ariadne steps onto the muddy road that runs through the local village with a large splat, and she groans as she pats some of the mud splatter from her breeches. It’s the first time since she’s been to the village of Canonswede, the closest settlement to the fort. As Balasar explained earlier, many of the villagers have flocked to the fort to ask for assistance with various things. Since the fort had remained abandoned for some time, they’d have to go all the way to Waterdeep in order to ask for help; now that the Greyblades, heroes of the realm, take residence there, they are now their closest stop.

Before Ariadne could stomp back to her room in a fury, Balasar interrupted her and asked her for help with a certain request. A child had made the trek up to the fort—Ariadne really thinks they should come up with a name for it soon—in order to ask for help with her father, who had fallen ill. Balasar agreed, but knowing his spells have limits, he asked Ariadne to come along, considering she had experience as a healer in her time before the Greyblades. She agreed—anything to get her mind off the current mess she’s in.

The village is rather large, and really could be classified as a town if you really wanted to dissect it that much. Ariadne surmises that the Greyblades presence will make Canonswede grow exponentially, especially if they decide to use their power for good, which she has no doubt that they will. The houses are tightly spaced, but in fairly good condition. It looks like they quarried stone from the mountains to construct most of the village, and it has weathered well. Warm smoke billows from the chimneys, and she is reminded just how cold it is; she brings her cloak closer to keep the cold away.

The house they journey to, in question, is on the poorer side of town, where the houses are made of wood and roofs made of straw. The girl leads them to the front door of a duplex of some kind, and opens the door. Balasar covers his nose; the stench of sickness and bile emanates from inside the house. Ariadne is used to this, and without hesitation, passes the threshold. The weak coughing from the girl’s father can be heard, and Ariadne’s ears twitch as she uses the sound to find him. He is sprawled on a bed in the corner of the large main room, limbs draping in various directions. She knows he’s alive, as she can hear his labored breathing, and quickly she takes the blankets off him to examine him.

“Balasar,” she beckons him to come, and he does. “Do you want me to take this time to teach you, or…”

“How about we work together. Can you cure this?”

Ariadne brings her hands to the man’s face and gently presses her fingers into certain pressure points. There is considerable swelling, most likely a sign of his body trying to fight off whatever illness infects his body. She uses her fingers to check his eyes, opens his mouth, and checks the circulation of his fingers and toes. With a sigh, she sits back, bringing out a handkerchief to wipe off any sort of fluid that might have made its way on her hands.

“He has an infection of the lungs, and it’s very strong. His body is trying very hard to fight it off, as is evident in the swelling around his neck and face, and the fever that has his entire body seeping with heat. Based on how far its progressed, even if I did administer treatment, his organs could fail before it takes.”

“So, a proper time to use a spell, then.”

“Aye.”

Balasar makes his way over to do his work, and Ariadne steps aside with the girl. She watches Balasar use the same routine she’s seen him perform a thousand times over. Light emanates from him like one would expect from a spell that evokes the power of a god. For a moment, Ariadne sees that light and likens it to Kuroe. She shakes her head—she’s still mad at him. 

After a while, the man in the bed gasps for breath, most likely from the shock of being able to breathe properly for the first time in days. He coughs at the fresh air entering his lungs, and Ariadne gently holds her hands on the girl’s shoulders. 

“Give him some space, love.” She says softly. “Let him gather himself.”

After a while, he comes to, eyes scanning the room. He brings his hand to his head, and when Ariadne sees this, she lets go of the little girl, and she runs to her father’s side. Their affection is warm, innocent and sweet, causing Ariadne to crack a smile for the first time in a few hours. The half-elf stands to the side while Balasar discusses some things with the family, including telling them that the healing was free of charge, and when he is done, they leave the house. Balasar is thankful for the fresh air, wafting it to his nose playfully.

“I have to stop by the pub before I leave.” He says, making his way up to the cart. “Is that okay?” 

“That’s fine. I’m probably going to look around for a while.”

“Right, right.” He says. “This is your first time. Whenever you’re done, come find me in the pub.” 

She nods, watching him cart away, and with that, she wanders about, curiosity leading her in circles around the village. The village market, in the center, smells like freshly baked bread, which is one of her favorite scents. Children run through the village square, shoes and hems of their clothes covered in mud, but they couldn’t care less. She smiles sweetly at their laughter, stepping aside a few times to let them run past her. Seeing the children gets her lost in her own head, thinking about what the future can hold for her now. She remembers distantly that at one point she wanted to have children of her own, and she wonders if fate still has that in store for her. The thought makes her smile absentmindedly.

Suddenly, she runs into the side of a horse, the shock of it all nearly throwing her on her behind. A curse word escapes her lips as the rider dismounts, holding the horse to steady it as he extends an apologetic hand.

“My lady, I’m so sorry,” the rider says, and Ariadne looks to see it’s a handsome human man, well dressed with shaggy blonde hair an a bright smile. Blood rushes to her face, clearly embarrassed, and she averts her gaze.

“No, it’s…that was my fault.” She says, shaking her head. “If you’ll excuse me—“

“Are you new around here?” He asks before she can leave, and due to the fact that she ran into his horse, she feels the need to answer him. It’s polite, right?

“You can say that.” She says.

“Are you, by chance, one of the Greyblades?” 

She blinks, clearly still not used to her namesake actually being famous. It’s incredible, sometimes, how she forgets she took part in saving the world.

“Aye.” 

“So, then, you must be Ariadne. I’ve heard about you, and was hoping to meet you.” He says, taking off a glove finger by finger. He extends his hand to her. “I am Aerin Canonswede.”

“Oh, so this village was—“

“Founded by my family a long time ago. My great grandfather is the one who built the fort in which you stay. It was my idea to gift it to you as thanks for your acts.”

“Oh, gods,” Ariadne says, coming to grips with the weight of his identity. “It’s such a pleasure to meet you—you didn’t have to do that, by the way. But, we are thankful for it.”

He shrugs with a smile.

“I never thought I’d be neighbors with a necromancer, but I think thoughts have shifted on that front because of you.” 

“Oh, well,” Ariadne shifts uncomfortably. “I don’t really practice—well, thanks.” She decides to keep her life story to a minimum. 

“I do have to say, you do live up to your reputation.” He says as he dons his gloves again before mounting his horse. 

“And that is?”

“Your beauty ma’am.”

Ariadne has been around nobility before, for sure, but never complimented by a noble. The attention has her red in the face.

“Well, I don’t know who told you all that, sir, but it’s wrong.”

“No really, ma’am. It’s all the lords in Waterdeep talk about. You’re a hero, which pretty much bumps you up in status. They all look forward to your presence at the Harvest festival.”

“What?”

“Because you—“ 

“No, I mean—sorry for interrupting—I meant the festival.” 

“Oh,” he smiles. “In Waterdeep a week from now, there’s a festival to celebrate the harvest. I’ve invited the Greyblades to my estate in Waterdeep for a masquerade. I hope you’ll come.”

“I’ll think about it.” Ariadne says, returning his smile. “I don’t do parties well.” 

“My parties are different.” He says. “I’ll make sure you don’t feel out of place. Promise me?” 

“I promise I will _think_ about it.” She says. “Have a good day, sir Canonswede.”

“Call me Aerin.”

“Aerin.” She says with a smile. “I’ll think about it.”

She turns on her heel in the mud and walks towards the pub, grin making her face hurt as she refuses to look back. She can hear well, though, and hears that he waits for a moment to ride off. The whole way home, Balasar asks her what put her in such a good mood. But, a lady doesn’t tell. She thinks that’s how that goes.

Upon returning to the fort, she hops out of the cart at the entrance while Balasar takes the horse to the stables. When she arrives in the courtyard, she can see Kuroe is training, and that several of the dummies were damaged beyond repair. Perhaps she really did make him mad. Perhaps his madness is a bit deeper than she assumed. Perhaps…she should apologize.

With a deep breath, she walks over to the fence that encases the training ring, leaning against it before propping her elbow on top, resting her head there as she watches him train. It doesn’t take long for him to notice her presence—after all, he smelled her as soon as she entered the courtyard—but his movements don’t feel complete yet. He swings his sword upward, slicing the sack holding the dummy together diagonally, and then he brings the sword back down, and with some footwork, he twirls, putting momentum behind his swing as he brings it across the dummy’s torso. In an instant, he slices through it, and Ariadne claps softly as the top half of it falls backward onto the floor with the other ones.

“Sorry for earlier,” she says as he watches him carefully place his sword on a rack on the fence, grabbing a towel draped there to wipe his face free of sweat.

“And what are you apologizing for, exactly?” He asks, not turning to her. His back is sweaty enough to stick to his skin, the fabric translucent enough to reveal the Raven Queen’s mark on him. Ariadne wonders if it has changed since he came back for a second time.

“For shutting you out.” She says, whining a bit like a child. “And bein’ all mean and stuff.”

“Apology accepted.” He says as he picks up a wooden sword. “And what else?”

Ariadne bites her tongue from retorting with a “What do you mean by that?” She knows that she is in the wrong now that she has had some time apart from him to process.

“I’m sorry I left without telling you.” She begins. “I understand where you’re coming from now.”

“Explain.”

She whines once more. “You were right, okay? I am powerful, but when it comes to my body, I am weak. If I were to run out of spells out on my own, what would I have done if I came across, like, a goblin horde or something.”

“What would happen indeed?” He muses, but his mind shudders at the thought.

“Anyways, I’m sorry.” 

He walks over to her and hands her the wooden sword, taking her surprise to his advantage by shoving it into her hand before she can protest. Confused, she grips it, and looks up to him with a knitted brow.

“Change my mind.” He says. “Let me train you so I can trust you if you want to do that again.” 

“So it’s a trust thing?” 

“There’s that attitude again.” He says as he opens the gate of the fence, ushering her in. She huffs as she complies. What could it hurt? 

“I don’t have an attitude. It’s a legitimate question.”

“Then, yes. I don’t trust you to not die. So, prove me wrong and learn.” 

Ariadne groans, taking the practice sword in her hands. Almost immediately, Kuroe intervenes. 

“Not like that. You’ll hurt your wrists like that.” 

“I’m not good at this,” Ariadne protests, “I don’t know where to begin.” 

“That’s why we are here.” He says picking up an extra sword. “I’m here to teach you.” 

Ariadne sighs. 

“Alright, then. Let’s go.”


	3. warmth and darkness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ariadne finds herself slowly coming to terms with her new life. Kuroe, however, has some reservations with a certain lordling.

Warmth.

 

A soft sigh. Sunlight illuminating ivory skin. A slender neck begging to be bitten. Warmth. A small laugh. Black hair cascading across the bed. A toothy grin that teases. Warmth. A wandering hand. Breathing harder, faster, louder. Fingers running through silver hair. Warmth. Speed increasing. Furrowed brows knitting tighter. Lips soft and wet. Warmth. Coils releasing. Fire burning. Darkness inking its way in. Darkness? 

 

Ravens calling. A sudden chill. Loneliness. Darkness. Familiar. Words that are lost between dimensions. Words lost but familiar. A slender figure, bony hands beckoning him closer. An embrace as cold as winter. Lips moving closer to his ears. A whisper, words stretched upon the wind:

 

 _Kill her_. 

 

Kuroe wakes, an uncommon chill washing over him. A sound of tapping fills his ears, and as he looks up to his window, he sees a raven rapping its beak against the glass. It’s been happening a lot, lately, and he wonders if it holds any meaning as the images from his dream slip from his memory. The feeling still stays, however; and Kuroe is wracked with the sudden feeling of longing. But for what, he does not know. With a sigh, he tosses the furs off his body and swings his legs over the edge, feet grazing the cold stone floor. He pushes his weight to his feet, lifting off the bed before walking over to the window, tapping his knuckles against the glass to send the raven away. 

 

He wonders if his patron is trying to send him a message. After all, she does have a task for him. But, being separated by dimensions tends to be a bit complicated when it comes to communicating. Often times, she will try to send him messages in dreams. It’s hard for him, though to remember these, and he wonders if it has anything to do with his unnatural origins. Sometimes he wishes that he could keep dreams, and if he was the type of person to remember these dreams, if he would be any different. Those are silly things to think, though, and he is glad he is the way he is. After all, he _did_ save the world. Dreamers change worlds; they don’t save them. 

 

It’s at this point that he realizes his mouth is unusually dry. Quickly, he puts on some comfortable clothes and makes his way to the kitchen. The halls are quiet and extremely dark, and thankfully, he can’t hear Ariadne screaming in her sleep. Maybe she’s finally sleeping well, now that he’s training her. That’s all he really wanted was peace of mind—not his own, but her’s. 

 

His thoughts distract his senses enough that he doesn’t notice a familiar scent in the direction of the kitchen. So, when he opens the large oak door, he is surprised to find Ariadne there, a mischievous smile stretching across her face as she sees him enter. Her hair is disheveled, and her face is flushed with an attractive shade of drunkenness. He’s only ever seen her like this once: the night after they returned from that god awful place where she found her fiancé. However, she wasn’t nearly as happy back then, and she definitely wasn’t smiling. After all, how happy can you be with the knowledge that you had to kill your fiancé to spare him from an eternity of torment? It didn’t help that she thought he was dead prior to that. To find out your beloved is alive, is in pure torment, and realizing killing him is the only way to save him is hard to come to terms with, let alone in a matter of minutes. She deserved the drinks that night, but he knows that they wouldn’t ever help her forget. 

 

Or, maybe he thought wrong. 

 

“You’re drunk,” he huffs, voice still hazed with sleep as he walks over to the water basin. He takes a large ladle that hangs above it off its perch and runs it under the tap, and the water feels nice and refreshing as it slides down his throat. It’s just what he wants. 

 

“Maybe.” 

 

This, however, is not what he wants.

 

“I don’t think there’s room for argument here.” He retorts, turning to face her. He takes another sip. 

 

“I think there is.”

 

“You should sleep.”

 

“No.” She says curtly, hopping off the table. She walks over to him, popping a grape in her moth to chew it quickly before continuing. “I don’t like to sleep.”

 

“Is that why you’re drunk, then?”

 

Ariadne runs her finger along the table top, words registering in her head. She knows exactly what he means.

 

“Not this time.”

 

Kuroe puts the ladle back in its proper place, turning back to her before crossing his arms. There are a lot of questions he wants answered, but part of him wonders if it’s even his right to ask them.

 

“Then why?”

 

The half-elf’s pink lips curl into a smile, and Kuroe watches as she softly sinks her teeth into her bottom lip.

 

“Why do you want to know?”

 

“Fine, then.” Kuroe says, unfolding his arms as he walks away, but she laughs softly, calling his name, begging him to come back, sliding off the table to chase after him. He turns on his heel, only to find that she’s right behind him, and because of the momentum of her pursuit after him, she accidentally bumps into him. Instinctively, he places his hand on the small of her back. But, as soon as she regains her balance, he quickly takes it away, hoping that the touch was not out of line.

 

“You’re still mad at me,” Ariadne says, large brown eyes looking up at him. “You don’t care because you’re mad at me.”

 

“First of all,” Kuroe says, taking a half-step back to give some space between them. “I _asked_ why. That means I kind of care. Second of all, why would I be mad at you?”

 

“‘Cuz I left.” She shrugs. “Remember? I left and stuff. You were mad at me. And I kept screamin’ and stuff. You couldn’t sleep well ‘cuz of me.”

 

“I’m not mad about that.”

 

“Yes you are.” She says, playfully hitting his shoulder.

 

“No, I’m not, Ari.” It’s the truth—even though it’s only been a few days since she’s been back from her mission, in all honesty, he can’t even remember the words he exchanged with her in the kitchen the day she came back. Irritatingly, he can’t stay mad at her for the things she does. Although, he will never admit it. Not now, at least; it would give her way too much power over him, more than she already does. That’s simply something he cannot allow.

 

Not now, at least.

 

“Well, if that’s the case…then I’ll tell you. I went into the village to meet with someone.”

 

Kuroe’s ears perk up.

 

“For a job or something?”

 

“Nope.” Her smile returns.

 

“For what, then.”

 

“I think he likes me.”

 

“Who?”

 

“Aerin.” She says, shoulders swaying between syllables. “He’s the lord or whatever. I don’t understand how things work around here.”

 

“Is he a lord of Waterdeep?”

 

“I don’t think so. But he is a large landowner around here. Apparently his family is the one that gifted us the fort and stuff—shouldn’t we name it or something? I’m tired of calling it ‘the fort.’”

 

“We can think of a name later—I thought a lord of Waterdeep anonymously gifted us the fort.”

 

Ariadne shrugs. “I ‘unno. I can’t remember.”

 

“I remember.”

 

“Well, he’s very nice to me. And we got a lil drunk.”

 

Kuroe inhales sharply, mulling the information in his mind.

 

“And how exactly did you get back from the village?”

 

Ariadne shrugged. “I walked.”

 

Kuroe shakes his head.

 

“Then I don’t very much like this ‘Aerin’ fellow.”

 

“What?” Ariadne exclaims. “Be nice! He’s nice to me. And…maybe I like him a little bit.”

 

The words hit Kuroe like a ton of bricks, but not nearly as hard as the soft scent that billows up to his nose after her admission. It’s a familiar scent, but not one he’s ever associated with Ariadne: the scent of arousal. An unknown part of him screams, and he sighs loudly through his nose in an attempt to rid himself of the smell.

 

“Regardless, you should get some sleep.” Kuroe manages to say after a moment of having trouble coming up with a response.

 

Ariadne cocks her head, but then nods. “Yeah. I’m pretty sleepy, I think.”

 

The small half-elf walks past him with a pep in her step, but before she leaves the kitchen, she turns to him with an inquisitive brow.

 

“Training tomorrow morning?”

 

Kuroe is surprised by her comment, but he cannot help but crack a small smile at the question.

 

“Of course.”

 

~~~~

 

“You’re a quick study.”

 

Ariadne shoots a glare back at Kuroe which only causes him to laugh, and the half-breed swipes his hand through the air.

 

“Was that too sarcastic?”

 

“Yes. You know I’m hungover, and I’m really groggy,” Ariadne huffs, hands gripping around the hilt of her practice sword. “Like this?”

 

Kuroe lifts off the fence and walks towards her, swinging a hazel switch around in his hand as he does. He observes her form, swatting the switch at her waist to urge her to stand straight. She tries to correct it, but then loses form in her shoulders. He swats those too, and at that, Ariadne curses at him, swinging the practice sword poorly in his direction. With a laugh, he dodges, and she groans in frustration.

 

“If you are just going to make fun of me every time I train with you, I’d rather not do it.”

 

“Don’t say that.” Kuroe pouts. “I’m having so much fun.”

 

“Well, I’m not.”

 

A twinge of guilt shoots through his chest, and with a sigh, Kuroe tosses the switch to the ground, holding up his hands in a mock surrender. Ariadne accepts his silent apology, and she regains her form.

 

“You overthink it, Ariadne.” He says as he walks around her again. “You’re anticipating your first move too early. I can tell exactly what you want to do.”

 

“What do I want to do, then?”

 

“You want to put all of your weight into an overhead swing.”

 

Ariadne clicks her tongue.

 

“Fine. How do I conceal that?”

 

“You have to relax.”

 

“I know, but I want to do—“

 

“I know you want to do a good job, Ariadne, but think of this as when you were learning your first spells. You probably sucked at them.”

 

The half-elf shakes her head. “I don’t understand this reference as I have always been masterful at spells.”

 

“Shut up. You know what I mean.”

 

“I don’t—“

 

“Ari.”

 

With a laugh, she focuses herself, closing her eyes as she takes a few deep breaths. It’s a good start at a defensive stance, Kuroe thinks, and he smiles with pride. She’s stubborn as an ox, but when she finally listens and gets out of her head, she’s a fantastic student. In a moment of spontaneity, he walks over to the rack of practice swords and picks one up of his own, and stands in front of her, taking an attack stance. Ariadne eyes him suspiciously, careful to not break her stance.

 

“You’re doing well. Keep your posture. Try to read my movements.”

 

“Kuroe, are you really trying to spar with—“

 

Before she can finish, he lunges forward, bringing his wooden sword to her left. She fumbles with what to do, and before she can act, his sword taps her in the side. Hissing, she looks up at him, and he cringes; he didn’t mean to hit her that hard, but to be fair, he was certain she’d be able to block it. Maybe he needs to dial it back a little bit more.

 

“That hurt,” she says, trying to regain posture. He is impressed with how easily she slips back into it.

 

“Good. Again.”

 

This time, he attacks from above, and this time, Ariadne is ready for him. She brings her blade up above her head, supporting the blunt end with the ball of her palm. His blade strikes, and she holds it off, even pushing his blade back. Kuroe laughs, but not with mockery. He’s truly having fun at this point. But, before he can tell her to go again, an unfamiliar scent wafts towards his nose—an intruder. The half-breed stands upright, eyes darting towards the fort entrance, and Ariadne takes note of his form. She turns her attention towards the front, and that’s when he sees him.

 

Aeren Canonswede.

 

Since their conversation in the kitchen last night, Kuroe has been deep in thought about the two of them, so much so that he wasn’t able to go back to sleep after he returned to his room. It all makes sense, now, why she’s been giggling while reading letters lately; why she’s been visiting the village almost every day since the first day she went. Perhaps she had it bad for him. Kuroe wishes he could understand, but that numbness of death still grips at some of his senses, his emotions, and more so than usual, he is unfamiliar with the feeling.

 

Kuroe watches as she drops her sword and hurries out the gate to greet him. The smile she uses to greet him is one that Kuroe has never seen, and as she extends her hand to shake it, the lord takes her hand into his and places a small kiss on her knuckles. The wolf turns, fakes a gag, and decides to go to the kitchens to get something to eat.

 

He makes his way down the hall, but the stench of the lord still lingers in his nose, causing him to instinctually rub it in a vain attempt to rid himself of it. The scent itself reeks of status and power, of fine oils not too different from the ones that damn mage used to wear. It’s a sickening smell to him, really, even more so when paired with a person with a position such as his. Part of him wonders if this man has a dungeon, too. If this man has some sort of deep place where he fills out his dark desires. The half-breed shakes his head free from the train of thoughts that sneak into his mind.

 

As he enters the kitchen, he sighs, leaning against the doorframe as a wave of guilt washes over him. He realizes that he shouldn’t be so petty. Perhaps a lord is what Ariadne deserves. After all, he has money, stability, and can give her a whole hell of a lot of stuff that someone else can’t. Above all else, her smile radiates in his head. That happiness she has when she’s around him is something he wouldn’t dare to tarnish. Forget his title and all that, it’s her happiness that matters most to him. Perhaps it’s better to just try and be happy for her.

 

At least to her face, he thinks. That he can do for now.

 

Kuroe takes a deep breath and continues to enter the kitchen, grabbing a bit of dried meat out of a basket. As he leans against the counter to chew on it and marinate further in his thoughts, Balasar enters the room. It’s not exactly the company he wishes to have, but Kuroe hopes that remaining silent will send his friend the right message.

 

“So, you hear about the lord or whatever trying to put the moves on Ari?”

 

Maybe not a strong enough message.

 

“No.” Maybe his tone is strong enough to give Bal the hint that he doesn’t want to talk about it.

 

“Boy, how do you not know? Anyways, he’s the owner of the land and the local village or whatever, and his family owned this fort. He was the one that gave it to us or some bullshit, I don’t know, but it’s a big deal.”

 

“So I’ve heard.”

 

“What? You don’t like him or something? He gave us this fortress. Plus, Ariadne needs somebody, you know? Maybe make sure she doesn’t kill this one, but—“

 

“That’s…a bit insensitive?”

 

“Insensitive? Maybe. An actual thing we should probably look out for? Definitely.”

 

“Look, Bal. I don’t really want to talk about him, or her, right now. I just kinda want to—“

 

“Want to what?”

 

Ariadne’s sweet voice causes his ears to twitch, and he sighs softly as he sees her enter the kitchen, her hand wrapped around the lord’s to help lead him here. There’s a feeling in Kuroe’s chest he cannot describe other than the fact that it’s painful, but it’s not a very good feeling, and he wishes it would go away.

 

“Go for a hunt.” Kuroe lies.

 

“Oh,” the lord pipes in. “That sounds like a fun time. Hunting with the Greyblades—who could think of anything more exciting!”

 

“I know, right?” Balasar stands and extends an arm. “It’s good to meet you, Sir Canonswede.”

 

“Please, please, call me Aerin. I insist. Sir Canonswede sounds so strange to me.”

 

“Why?” Kuroe asks, unable to hide his apparent irritation. “Isn’t that your title? You should be used to it by now.”

 

The lord stuffs his hands in his pockets awkwardly. “And you must be Kuroe. I’ve heard a lot about you, from Ari of course.”

 

 _Ari_. The sound of someone strange using her nickname causes his lip to curl into a snarl.

 

“I don’t know anything about you. I don’t think that’s very fair.”

 

“Oh, well, I’m—“

 

“Didn’t say I wanted to. Don’t get it confused.”

 

Ariadne’s brow furrows. “Kuroe, please, be—“

 

Yellow eyes cut her off, but before she can continue, Kuroe grabs a burlap sack from a cabinet, packs some things into it, and makes his way out of the kitchen. Aerin starts to say something, but Ariadne stops him; she knows Kuroe isn’t out of earshot. Bal, however, doesn’t care.

 

“Sorry for him, Aerin. He gets a bit cranky every now and then. I think it’s a full moon thing.”

 

Ariadne rolls her eyes, but Aerin’s eyes widen.

 

“A werewolf?”

 

“He’s not a werewolf,” Ariadne corrects, shooting Bal a glare. “He has a story to tell, but it is not mine to tell. Nor is it Balasar’s. Kuroe is a good man, and he helped save the world. That’s all you need to know about him for now.”

 

Aerin blinks, and Ariadne sighs.

 

“He’ll warm to you eventually.”

 

“Good. I hope he will warm to me before the party.”

 

With a laugh, Ariadne grabs a couple of apples and ushers him to leave the room.

 

“Dream on, Aerin. By ‘eventually’, I meant a few months.”

 

“More like years.” Bal corrects this time. “He still doesn’t like me.” 

 

~~~~

 

Anger.

 

Bloodied lips and gnawing teeth. The crack of bone. The beast within Kuroe is clawing at his insides, ripping, tearing, begging to be let loose. It’s no wonder that Kuroe, once he left the kitchen, found himself in the woods at the base of the mountains behind the fort. It’s the only place, currently, he feels safe to let it loose. With an open palm, he summons his sword Hazirawn for the first time in a long while. Ever since The Fall, his sword has been silent. Now, more than ever, he wishes to hear its words.

 

“Tell me what you want,” he growls. “Give me a mission to take me away from here.”

 

 _Hmm_ …

 

Kuroe’s ears perk up, even though the voice is in his own head.

 

_There are rumblings. A presence wishes to break forth. The threat of Tiamat is gone. A dark power wishes to pick up where She failed._

 

“You want me to kill it?”

 

_Hold your horses, Champion. Did I not say rumblings? The energy is there, almost always present. An energy that seems familiar to me. I’ve felt it in battle with you. The she-elf, I think._

 

Kuroe’s ears lay flat against his head.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

_You know of what I speak. The black magic that bursts forth from her fingers all comes from the same source._

 

Kuroe blinks. Months ago, in their trip to the Shadowfell, the Raven Queen paid him a visit while Ariadne slept. There, in that cave, his Queen told him why She chose him as Her Champion. That name echoes through his head, and suddenly, a brief recollection of his dreamless night comes to as well. His Queen gave him a second commandment, one that he was not so sure about; one that involves said she-elf.

 

“Don’t ask me to kill her.”

 

_Oh? You think I meant her? An interesting query, to be sure. She is powerful, but she is nowhere near as powerful as she could be. Should be. Here’s a thought: let her go bad and let me taste her._

 

“She won’t go bad. I won’t let her.”

 

_That’s a shame. The power coupled with the sorrow just sounds…delicious._

 

“Alright, goodbye—“

 

_Wait, I’m not done yet. Be cautious of her. The power that wishes to break forth needs help. It needs powerful people. You’re famous, now, right? I’m sure her choice of magic is not a secret to anyone. That whole army saw her suck the life from that dragon’s wings. Oof. The power._

 

“Stay on topic.”

 

_Right. She may become a target of darker forces. She may become a subject of intrigue. Agents of this mysterious power may try to use her. Her resources. Her connections. Her—gods, her power! Are you sure I can’t have her?_

 

“I’m pretty fucking sure.”

 

_Selfish is what you are. But, it’s probably a good thing. I am still sated on the recent kill of Tiamat. You have time. This new force doesn’t have the power to break through yet. However, by the time it does, I will be hungry again. But mark my words: Her name is on the tongues of those who wish to use her. Her name echoes in circles concealed by dark magic. Her name is out there. They will make moves to gain her._

 

At that, the magical humming that is coupled with Hazirawn’s telepathic abilities dissipates, and Kuroe finds himself in the midst of the silent woods once more. His anger, though, has subsided, but now it is replaced by something more toxic: worry. It starts to ink through him like a sickness, and before he knows it, his fingers wrap around the handle of an axe he picked up on his way out of the fort. Then, he picks the thickest tree trunk he can find, imagines the face of Aerin on it, and begins to whack away.

 

It’s just the therapy he needed.

 

After satisfying himself, he decides to head back. Because of his fit of rage, he’s not exactly sure how long he was out here, but once he clears the tree line, the sun hanging low in the sky helps him realize that it’s been quite a while. That, and chopping down a really big tree takes a long time. As he approaches the entrance of the fort, he sighs, and decides an apology to Ariadne is in order; after all, she likes this man, and he wasn’t the nicest. It probably—no, most definitely—hurt her feelings.

 

As soon as he enters the fort, he smells that awful lordling smell, and surmises that he is still here. If he is still here, then Ariadne must be close by. He surmises that the lordling probably deserves an apology, too, but the closest he will get to one is hearing Kuroe apologize to Ariadne. He won’t get one directly. Call it primal instinct—or jealousy—but, there is something about the lordling that he cannot shake. It will take some time, but maybe that feeling of mistrust will go away. After all, The Greyblades weren’t the most trustworthy of companions at first—not even Ariadne.

 

Aerin’s scent grows stronger in an area of the fort that they’ve established as “living” quarters, not to be confused with “private” quarters. It is here that Balasar set up a room as a small shrine to Bahamut, and Ariadne set up a room where she can study to her heart’s content. It is likely that they are there, as Ariadne tends to enjoy showing off her collection of books to strangers.

 

Kuroe followed Aerin’s scent to Ariadne’s library, where he sees him looking through an all familiar book—one bound in black leather, pages worn and stained with all manner of ink and blood. That grimoire saw some of the best and worst of battle, and it has the scars to show for it. Ariadne told him she planned on retiring that book, so it makes sense that it would be in here and not with her. What does not make sense is this stranger holding it open in his hands, fingers frozen on the exposed page because of Kuroe’s interruption. The lord’s eyes are wide, but soon he cools down, snapping the grimoire closed with a sly smile.

 

“What are you doing in here?”

 

“Ariadne asked me to bring this to her. I was just looking, really. Magic fascinates me, mostly because I couldn’t cast a spell even if I tried.”

 

Kuroe tries his best to suppress a growl, but it bubbles up in his throat despite his protests.

 

“Then that’s your problem.” The wolf says, yellow eyes narrowed. “Little boys like you shouldn’t stick their fingers in matters they cannot handle. Although, it would be pretty fun to see you attempt a spell of hers. I’d love to see it go wrong, and you go with it.”

 

“My, my.” Aerin says, taking some steps towards him. “I must say, Kuroe. Your crass reputation precedes you. Shame, really. Ariadne is so very fond of you. But I just don’t see the charm.”

 

“I’m glad to hear my reputation of being a dragon slayer and a god-killer precedes me. Must be intimidating for a little man like you.”

 

“Very.” Aerin fakes a shiver. “Must be devastating for you to know that your little half-elf likes me more than you.”

 

“It’d be pretty devastating for me to break your jaw, now, wouldn’t it?”

 

At this, Aerin’s eyes narrow.

 

“Is that a threat?”

 

“More like a promise.”

 

The lord runs his hand along his chest in order to smooth his vest down, a small gesture to compose himself.

 

“Well, then. I shall take my leave. I have to bring this to Ariadne, after all.”

 

Kuroe eyes him closely, noticing him stack the grimoire on top of another book.

 

“And that one? What’s that book?” It looks familiar to him, but he cannot make it out.

 

“I don’t believe it’s any of your business at this point.”

 

“She is my business.”

 

The lord laughs.

 

“Not anymore.”

 

At that, they disengage from their altercation, and Aerin walks past him. Kuroe gives him wide breadth, as the last thing he wants is to physically touch him. That would only be an invitation for something far more violent. As he leaves, the smell goes with him, and the room is back to smelling like his beloved friend, and that causes him to be wracked with guilt. What is it about this man he cannot let go? What is it? Will he ever let it go?

 

His mind races as he leaves the room, making his way to his private chambers. Once there, he gathers up a few things and heads out. Perhaps the best thing to do at this point is to give Ariadne space. Perhaps the best thing to do is remove himself from the situation. Maybe, just maybe, if he just…dissociates himself for a time, things will get better. But, he doesn’t know how long that will take. The lordling is now under his skin, a brand on his psyche.

 

This is something Kuroe struggles with in regards to his more primal half. He is territorial by nature, and it’s something he wishes he could just let go like any normal person. But, it takes a long time to earn his trust. It takes a long time to earn anything from him. Throw Ariadne into the mix, his most precious of friend, and it becomes even worse. This woman fought by his side. This woman fought to bring him back from the dead. This woman fought for _him_. It is in his nature to protect her, now, so much so that he would call it instinct. The situation, though, is so delicate and complex—normally, Ariadne would cherish his protection, would cherish his opinion. He doesn’t feel so welcome in that respect, anymore.

 

To leave, he thinks, just for a while, would be best.

 

As he pads down the stairs to the exit, a calming scent reaches him. He turns as the scent grows stronger, to find Ariadne approaching him from behind. She clicks her tongue, pouting ever so slightly.

 

“I know I can never sneak up on you, but for some reason, I always try.”

 

She’s trying to set up some banter, he thinks. But he just doesn’t feel up to it.

 

“I have to leave for a little while.” He cuts to the chase.

 

Ariadne’s brow furrows.

 

“How long is a little while?” She asks, taking a few steps to close the gap between them.

 

“I don’t know.”

 

“So you won’t be back in time for the festival?”

 

“I doubt it greatly.”

 

Ariadne sighs, reaching her small hands up to his chest to pick off a splinter of wood that rests there from his excursion earlier. Then, once she removes it, she runs her hand on his chest in an attempt to make himself look more presentable. Kuroe holds his breath—he doesn’t want her to feel how fast his heart is beating.

 

“That will be a shame.” She finally says, taking her hand away. “I was looking forward to seeing you dressed nicely.”

 

 _Alright_ , he thinks. _Maybe room for a little banter_.

 

“As you should. I clean up well.”

 

“Well,” Ariadne says, his comment making her crack a small smile, “if you get back in time, we are hosting the festival here at the fort. Balasar and Aerin decided that it would be a good chance for the villagers to come and see what we’ve done with the place.”

 

Kuroe’s eyes squint.

 

“Make sure they store my training equipment properly.”

 

“I will see to it myself.”

 

“Good. Also, make sure Balasar doesn’t try and make a cult dedicated to himself again.”

 

Ariadne laughs.

 

“He is pretty enigmatic. It will be hard, but I will try.”

 

Kuroe takes a deep breath as he pauses, thinking of the right words to say next.

 

“Guard yourself.” He says lowly. Ariadne squints.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“I’ve trained you—well, maybe not completely, at this point. But I trust you.”

 

Ariadne nods deeply. She understands all to well what he means.

 

“I know he came out of nowhere.” She starts, digging her boot in the dirt at the fort entrance. “I know he took you off guard. I also know how territorial you are, because, that’s just how you are.”

 

“I’m…sorry, about—“

 

“You have every right, you know. We worked hard for,” she gestures to the air around her, “all this. To have strange people come in…it’s right to put up a guard. And you are right to be mad at me for letting mine down.”

 

“I’m not mad—“

 

“Kuroe,” she says softly, eyes focused on the small divot in the dirt that her book has now made. “I know you aren’t _mad_ but I know you feel _some_ type of way. But, where I lack in strength, I make up for it in smarts. I may like him, but I don’t trust him. He hasn’t proven that to me, yet.”

 

A small part of the weight on his shoulders dissipates, but it does not disappear entirely. Part of him wants to tell her about the conversation he and Aerin had in her room. But, if she isn’t approaching him currently with anger, he knows that Aerin has yet to tell her, too. Maybe that’s part of his gentleman’s upbringing. Maybe he will respect that, and that be the start of his…acceptance of him.

 

“Also,” the half-elf continues. “I won’t do anything without your approval. So if you come back years from now, I won’t be all off and married or whatever.”

 

“I don’t plan on being gone that long.”

 

“Good.” She says with the smile. “I hate sharing you with the Raven Queen anyways.”

 

Kuroe smiles.He knows she jests, but in reality, he doesn’t like sharing either.

 

“If you need me, have Bal Send for me. Okay?”

 

“Okay.” She says. “Good bye, Kuroe.”

 

“Good bye, Ariadne.”

 

At that he turns and walks down the path, suddenly becoming aware of Hazirawn’s vibrations. He decides it’s best to ignore Him for now.

 

 

~~~~

 

Kuroe didn’t end up going very far. In fact, halfway to Waterdeep, he decided that it’d be best to keep a closer watch on his new home. He took up residence in the inn in Canonswede, and on the night of the big festival, found himself in the neighboring tavern. It’s a quiet night, though, since most people are up at the fort. In the large sitting area, it’s just him and the barkeep, who walks over with a jug to fill his cup.

 

“Forgive me for making small talk, since you’re by yourself, but are you new around here?”

 

Kuroe laughs, taking a sip.

 

“You could say that.”

 

“Well.” The barkeep says, leaning against the table. Kuroe tries to shuffle closer to the corner in an attempt to get as far away as possible. He doesn’t exactly want to talk to anyone right now, but it looks like he can’t do much about that. “What a good time to be in town. Not only is it Highharvestide, but our Lord Canonswede is coming back to town after being gone for so long. You should stick around, really, and watch the village grow.”

 

Kuroe, lost in the drink, doesn't take notice of the last bit of information, continuing to take comfort in his mug of ale. Yet, the dwarf still continues, his pride of where he lives evident.

 

"The Greyblades are good people." He says with a happy grin. "They've brought peace of mind to this place. That Balasar is a good man, helping us out as much as he possibly can. I, for one, appreciate him. He helped me repair my door after some vagrants crashed into it while they were fighting.:

 

"That's terrible." Kuroe humors. "Glad he could help."

 

"Have you heard of them? The Greyblades?"

 

"Oh, I've heard of them." Kuroe laughs in his mug. "I've heard a lot of things about them."

 

"Oh? Is that so? Tell me more!" The barkeep pulls up a chair, and at that, Kuroe sighs.

 

 _Fine_ , he thinks. _Let's see where this goes._

 

"Where to even begin?" The half-breed leans back in his chair. "They're certainly a rag-tag bunch of adventurers. They don't necessarily work well together, but they know how to get the job done when it comes down to it."

 

"They saved the world!" The barkeep interjects. "How can you not work together and save the world?"

 

"They just have opposing personalities. One of them, Kuroe, is very level-headed and strong. He is probably the most powerful in the group."

 

"Oh, really? Balasar said _he_ was the most powerful one."

 

"Balasar...how can I explain Balasar...first of all, he is a liar. Not in a bad way, but because he tends to change the narrative in his favor. Balasar is quite powerful, but he is not the most powerful. Kuroe is."

 

"Interesting." The barkeep says, tapping his fingers on the table. "I know that, currently, three of them reside in the fort, but I've only ever met Balasar. This Kuroe man sounds intriguing, but I wonder about the girl..."

 

"And why is that?"

 

"Isn't she...well, I've heard she is a necromancer."

 

"Now, her tale," Kuroe takes a large gulp of his ale, finishing it off, asks for another, and the barkeep complies. "Her tale is much different than you'd think. It's not the typical necromancer tale. It's much sadder."

 

"What's sad about a necromancer?"

 

"A lot." Kuroe says, taking a sip of his fresh mug. "She was in love, once. In love with some simple healer in her local village. In love enough to marry him. And marry him she wanted to, but he was taken from her the night before their wedding. Killed by some cult or whatever. She was angry and bitter. She promised herself to bring him back, but not in any necromantic way, and not in any way involved with the gods. They were the ones that took him so cruelly, she thought. She would bring him back with her bare hands. And so, she sought the ultimate spell to save him."

 

"That sounds like a sad song." The bartender says, cupping his cheek in his hand as he rests his arm on the table.

 

"You can say that. What's sadder is that he was never truly dead. The Greyblades found him in some dank dungeon in a far away land; he had been transformed into an abomination, being tortured and prodded by a devil, no less. He was also being fed children."

 

"Gods!" He yells. "What did she do?"

 

"She did the humane thing. She killed him, and ended his suffering."

 

"That's so sad..."

 

"Indeed."

 

"So, she brought him back, though, right?"

 

"No."

 

"No!?"

 

"Despite all her suffering, all her work she put into trying to bring him back, once he was gone, she decided he should stay gone. She wanted him to have peace."

 

"So...all of that time trying to find a way to bring him back, and she just…doesn’t?”

 

“Yeah. I suppose you could say it’s wasted time. But, I fear if she did, she’d probably have gone full lich mode.”

 

The barkeep hums, tapping his fingers on the table.

 

“You seem to know a lot about the Greyblades.”

 

“I do.”

 

“Sounds like you could be one of ‘em.”

 

“Maybe I am.”

 

“Why aren’t you at Greyfort?”

 

“Is that what you lot call it? I don’t do parties very well.”

 

The barkeep taps the tabletop before standing. He walks over to the bar, searching for something specific behind the cabinets. With a sound of revelation, he pulls out a large bottle that is half full, and he walks back over to the table with two small glasses.

 

“I do, but as the owner of this tavern, I gotta stay here as long as you are here. Might as well make a fun time of it, no?”

 

Kuroe shakes his head, downing the rest of his ale before standing.

 

“I won’t keep you any longer.”

 

“Stay. You told me some stories, so now I’ll tell you a story or two of mine.”

 

“Of battle?” Kuroe asks.

 

“I’ve seen my fair share.” The dwarf says with a smile, uncorking the bottle. The brown liquid is pungent, and as he pours it into the glass that he gave Kuroe, the half-breed almost flinches. But, this companionship is special, he assumes. They clink glasses and drink.

 

“My story starts a long time ago when Lord Canonswede had me under his wing for a while. I was young and eager to beat some things to death, so when rumors of a dragon in the mountains came about, I begged my lord to let me at ‘im.”

 

“What kind of dragon?” Kuroe asks, watching him pour some more liquor.

 

“A red one, and a nasty one at that. Called himself Gragdrulan, Destroyer of Men. Real piece of work. He was drawn to the riches of Waterdeep, and took residence in the mountains while he planned his attack. Lord Canonswede wanted to nip the problem in the bud before it became chaos. So, he took a few of us up to the mountains to try and kill him.”

 

“Did you?”

 

“Not that time, no. We lost about ten men, burned to a bloody crisp, they were. Lord Canonswede took it very hard, considering most of them were his friends. So, the second time we went up that mountain, we had a whole new plan of attack: revenge.”

 

“Revenge is a powerful motivator.”

 

“Indeed it is. I drove my hammer into that dragon’s skull, and the crack—gods, it was loud and wonderful, like some sort of firework. The way the beast fell limp to the ground was so satisfying.”

 

“You’ve slain a dragon and you are here in this tavern slinging drinks?”

 

The barkeep laughs.

 

“Don’t you have dreams, son? I didn’t want to be an adventurer forever. Sure, I loved the thrill of the kill. Nothing gave me more satisfaction than swinging my hammer at an enemy. But, I wanted to start my own business. The money I got for helping slay that dragon was what I used to start this place. Bought it off the previous owner and gave it new life. I was proud of killing that dragon. But that notoriety came and went. This is what I’m proud of.”

 

Kuroe runs his finger along the rim of the glass before chugging the liquor down. He is wise, indeed, and perhaps it’s something Kuroe needs to think about. Given his binding to the Raven Queen, though, he might not have room to dream. She has plans for him, and until he finishes those plans, he really can’t have any goals. Plus, once he’s finished, there’s no guarantee she will let him stay on this Plane. Maybe she’d call him back to her. Who knows?

 

“So, Lord Canonswede has slain a dragon, huh.”

 

“Oh, yes. He’s a powerful sorcerer, born with innate magical abilities. I wouldn’t have been able to achieve that killing blow without his help of blasting the beast to bits.”

 

Suddenly, Kuroe recalls a bit of conversation he had with said Lord in Ariadne’s study.

 

“A magic user?”

 

“Aye.”

 

“When I met him, he said he didn’t know anything about magic. Said he ‘couldn’t cast a spell if he tried.’”

 

“Son, I don’t think you’ve got the right man.” The dwarf says with a hearty laugh. “Lord Canonswede has been gone to a distant land for some time—“

 

“But, he’s back now.” Kuroe says—it’s supposed to be a question, but the information the barkeep is giving him is causing him a twinge of fear. “I saw him. I met him. He’s a human—“

 

At that, the barkeep barks with laughter. “So there’s someone around here posing as him, eh? Well, makes sense—a lot of people don’t remember what he looks like. I do, though, but I’m old, and was around before he left. But, Lord Canonswede is no human. He’s an elf.”

 

Kuroe’s hand grips firmly around his glass, so much so that he breaks it. The barkeep shoots back, looking up to him with a quizzical expression.

 

“What’s this all about, son? Is something wrong?”

 

With a growl, Kuroe stands, looking to his new friend.

 

“You still any good with that hammer of yours?”

 

The dwarf rubs his hands together.

 

“I practice every day.”

 

“Then get it, friend. I have a lordling problem that needs to be addressed, and if you know the truth, I will need you to back me up.”

 

“I’ll back you up, and put the hammer down when needed. If there’s an imposter walking around posing as my friend, you had better believe I’d like to address it. Violently.”

 

“You’re my kind of person. What’s your name?”

 

“Daenar.”

 

“Well, Daenar, I’m Kuroe, the _truly_ most powerful member of The Greyblades.”

 

“I figured you were.”

 

“Now, let’s go. We have a party to get to.”

 

~~~~

 

Ariadne holds a hand to her chest as Onthine tightens her corset. Onthine laughs as she wraps the lacing around her fist once more, tugging the life out of the half-elf, it seems. Ariadne curses as the breath leaves her lungs, and the dwarf girl laughs once more.

 

“You act like you’ve never worn a corset in your life, mistress.” She says, tugging at the strings to see if they are tight enough. “You should feel lucky—your waist will be as cinched as any I’ve ever seen.”

 

“Lovely,” Ariadne groans. “Is this really all that necessary?”

 

“Well,” Onthine hums, “you have to look pretty for Lord Aerin, don’t you?”

 

“Oh, please!” Ariadne scoffs. “We are simply good friends.”

 

“Get a couple of drinks in ye, and you’ll tell another story.” Onthine laughs, and the half-elf reaches back to smack her hands in a playful manner. The two of them laugh together, and when Onthine believes her work to be done, she ties of the binding and tucks it nicely.

 

“I think I should warn you, then.” Onthine says as she stands, walking over to the bed upon which she has neatly displayed Ariadne’s dress of choice. It is short and black, with black tights to match. The hem is lacy and sweet, and the neckline is high, with buttons going down the middle. It’s the type of style Ariadne likes, even though she’s not _too_ fond of dresses.

 

“Warn me about what?” She asks as Onthine hands her the tights.

 

The dwarf watches her snake the tights up her leg carefully.

 

“I’ve heard a rumor.” She says with a smile. “Not a bad one. A good one. From my sister.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“That Lord Aerin intends to propose.”

 

Ariadne spits with laughter.

 

“You seriously think he would do such a thing? I’ve only known him for a week.”

 

“I’ve seen nobility marry each other on the day they meet for the first time.” Onthine says. “I’ve seen dwarves sign contracts of marriage from faraway kingdoms and only meet their spouses once or twice a year for formality.”

 

“But, you can’t think he’d want to marry _me_.”

 

“Look, mistress—”

 

“Don’t call me that.”

 

“Ariadne,” she says after she clicks her tongue, “I’m just telling you what I heard from my sister. She seems to think it will happen tonight, that’s why he asked it to be moved to the fort instead of his property in Waterdeep.”

 

The half-elf blinks. Things that have happened in he past week are starting to make sense, to fall into place. The constant letters, the flirting, the drinking…everything just might be leading up to this moment. Everything just might be riding on the precipice. Ariadne shudders at the thought. She likes him, to be sure; he is handsome, funny, and kind. But marriage? Never in a thousand years did she think that she would ever be ready to think about _that_ again. It’s here, now, though, and part of her wishes Onthine would have told her as soon as she found out so she would have a little more time to process.

 

“Oh, does…does it not please ye?” Onthine asks, taking time away from the buttons on the back of Ariadne’s dress once she sees her blank expression. “I assumed it’d be happy news.”

 

“It is,” Ariadne says with a small smile. “It’s just a lot to think about. And fast, I guess.”

 

“Ye can always say no.”

 

Ariadne laughs.

 

“I don’t think Balasar would let me at this point. He loves that man more than I ever could, I think.”

 

With a sigh, the dwarf buttons the last button, smoothing down the back of her dress before stepping back.

 

“Aye, the dragonborn has taken a liking to him. He tends to have that effect on those of status, doesn’t he?”

 

“It’s a gift, I guess.” Ariadne shrugs. “So, do I look okay? I mean, if what you say is true…is this okay? Should I have…I don’t know, gone with something more—”

 

“I think he likes ye for who you are. You are, of course, a peculiar woman.”

 

“Am I that peculiar?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Ariadne smooths the skirt of her dress, crossing her arms nervously in front of her before she turns around. The dwarf smiles, nods, and stands on her toes to reach up and pinch the half-elf’s cheeks.

 

“A little more rosiness wouldn’t hurt.”

 

At that, Onthine exits to go get herself ready for the revelry, and Ariadne takes a deep breath before stepping out into the madness. Ever since the decision was made to have the festival party held at the fort—she _still_ thinks they need to come up with a name for it—people from the village have been in and out, going all over the place to make sure the preparations were in order. A part of Ariadne is thankful that Kuroe decided to leave before this happened; she knew he would have been uncomfortable with all of the strangers around. But, she misses his company, and is sure that he would have offered some sort of quiet refuge in this chaos.

 

But, now is no time for quiet. Now is the time to celebrate. Ariadne isn’t so familiar with the holidays that are celebrated in this part of Faerûn, but she does know that the villages where she grew up put particular emphasis on celebrating the harvest time. It seems that Waterdeep, and the surrounding areas, however, put even more effort in making this time special, made evident by the swiftness and eagerness of the villagers’ last minute preparations.

 

The private wing is untouched, but as soon as she exits the hall in which the living quarters are located, the walls are adorned with bright, autumnal garland, with bountiful cornucopias adorning every spare flat surface. The smell of cinnamon, wine, and campfire fills her nose, and at that, she smiles, the nerves from the rumor that Onthine told her finally beginning to slip away. As she walks to a window overlooking the courtyard, she can see that there are dozens of people already filling up the area. Balasar is front and center, of course, introducing himself or whatever he does with the locals. They are captivated by him; after all, he is very scaly and shiny, and he has that certain…charisma, about him. It is time, now, Ariadne thinks, to find a cup and fill it to the brim with wine. Balasar’s ego is going to be tough to deal with all night, and the sooner she becomes inebriated, the better.

 

It doesn’t take long for her to make her way down to the courtyard and for a wine-filled cup to find her hand. Balasar is already calling for her to come over, but she is distracted by a familiar face playing music in the corner—her dear friend Calliope, finally returning from her travels.

 

“Callie!” She screams, shuffling her way towards her. “You finally came back!”

 

“For a moment.” She says, sly fingers strumming her lute. “Mostly wanted to come see the place. It’s nice, for the most part. You guys did a decent job at decorating it. There’s not a single skull in sight.”

 

“Bal shot me down,” Ariadne jokes with a fake pout, and the tiefling laughs.

 

“Probably for the best. After all, everyone pretty much knows that about you at this point.”

 

“What is that all about? It’s like I go from this unknown half-elf to this famous necromancer overnight.”

 

“Oh, well, that absolutely has nothing to do with me. I definitely did not spread stories about how you raise the dead—”

 

“I only really ever did that one time!”

 

“You say that like I did that, and I didn’t. I never did.” The tiefling strums her lyre once more in order to drown out any protest from Ariadne, and the half-elf shakes her head with a grin.

 

“At any rate, it’s good to— _it’s good to see you_!” She yells over the instrument before turning on her heel.

 

Ariadne sighs happily, sipping her wine as she walks across the courtyard. There are many strange faces there, but all of them recognize her. They greet her with pride, and she nods her head with a smile. Although it’s been several months since The Fall, never has she had to come to terms with her new fame until now. A group of nobles recognizing them is one thing—villagers, farmers and the like is another thing.

 

Even still, there are some that give her wide berth as she walks by, and she knows all too well why. Her conversation earlier with Callie rings in her ears, and she tries not to let it get to her. It’s not like she chose to pursue the path of necromancy out of search for power. No, it was only a tool to her. However, she can’t change what others think—and she doesn’t want to! The art is dark and forbidden for a reason, and Ari is thankful every day that she was strong enough to overcome the little voice in her head that urged her to move forward, that urged her to go over the edge. In fact, she’s thankful that it was a _little_ voice and not a big one.

 

The half-elf refills her cup when she feels a tap on her shoulder. As she turns, she sees him: Aerin. He’s wearing a dark burgundy vest with a black sash, and Ariadne runs her free hand along the black fabric before making a knowing face.

 

“Is this your attempt to match me?”

 

“How was I supposed to know you were going to wear all black like a funeral?” He muses. “Direct me to the ale, mistress.”

 

“Mistress?” Ariadne mimics, pointing towards a table to her left. “Over there, I think. At least, that’s where the dwarves have been congregating.”

 

“Ah, stay here. I will be right back.”

 

She watches him closely, taking a large sip of her wine as he walks over to the table in question. A strange feeling hits her, one that she’s that she’s had to come to terms with over the past few days. It’s that feeling of warmth creeping in her chest, making its home beneath her skin. The wine only accentuates it, which she found out the other night while out in the village with him. But, it’s a good feeling. Hells, it’s a _fantastic_ feeling. With a bit of confidence, she downs her glass and refills it before he comes back over.

 

“Let’s walk around a little bit.” He says, free hand finding its way to the small of her back.

 

“Let me show you what we’ve done with the place.” Ariadne responds, reaching her hand back to take his. “It’s pretty impressive, considering we only had a couple of days to prepare.”

 

She leads him through the courtyard, which takes a little longer than she anticipated—after all, he is a Lord, and she is a hero, so they are bound to be stopped. Onthine, at this point, has made her way down after getting ready, and she eyes Ariadne knowingly. The half-elf motions for her to stop from across the courtyard, but the dwarf laughs, getting in line for the ale table. From then, Ariadne leads him throughout the fort, showing him the various decorations. He seems impressed, but his eyes don’t really ever leave her.

 

As they make their way back to the courtyard, they find Balasar showing off some tricks. He wows the guests by summoning his hammer out of thin air, paired with his spiritual guardians swirling around him. Behind him, some of the staff of the fort have brought out a large stack of wood, and Ariadne rolls her eyes, knowing exactly where this is going. The two of them part for only a moment, going to refill their drinks, and when they reconvene, Balasar gathers everyone around to hear him. With the sun falling behind the mountains, the dragonborn decides its time to start a little bonfire, but not without doing it in his own, special way. His nostrils begin to glow bright red, smoke rising from them like chimneys. With his chest puffed out, he takes a deep breath, the air in his lungs beginning to ignite. With a loud roar, he releases the flame from within him, directing the embers to set the wood behind him ablaze. The crowd cheers, and Ariadne turns to Aerin, and they clink their cups.

 

“Happy Highharvestide.” He says.

 

“You, too, I guess.”

 

“Oh!” Aerin says after he takes a sip. “I forgot to tell you. I brought you something. A little gift, I suppose you could say.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“Can we go somewhere a little more private? I want to give it to you.”

 

Ariadne pauses. The words that Onthine said begin to ricochet against her skull. Could it possibly be true?

 

“S-sure.” Ariadne says, downing her wine in an attempt to gain some courage. “Let me refill my cup.”

 

Aerin laughs. “You’ve had a lot.”

 

“Yes. And?”

 

“Nothing. After about five glasses, you get this nice flush on your face. But you’re really red, so I don’t know how many that means.”

 

“I have lost count.”

 

At that, Aerin’s free hand finds his way to the small of her back again, ushering her through the crowd. Taking the initiative, she leads him to the most private place without being _too_ private. After all, she just met him, and he shouldn’t be getting any ideas. She ends up taking him up to the top of the fort, where they can keep close watch on the revelries of the courtyard while still remaining away. Once there, Aerin takes a moment to revel in the breeze, as the heat from the courtyard was getting overwhelming.

 

“So,” Ariadne says, rocking back and forth on her feet. “What is it you have to give me?”

 

Aerin laughs, scratching the back of his head.

 

“Forgive me for this, but I thought it might pique your interests. I found it in my travels, and I thought, if anyone deserves to have it, it's you.”

 

He fishes around in a bag to his side and pulls out a long, slender object. As Ariadne squints to get a closer look, she realizes that it’s a wand of some type, but it’s definitely not a normal one. A skull adorns the end of it, jaw permanently situated open with a gem fitted between its teeth. The shaft of the wand is wood, but it is carved in such a way to mimic the look of a spine that slithers and snakes, tapering at the end to give it a good ergonomic feel. For a moment, Ariadne wishes to use her magic to identify it, but the drink is fully coursing through her veins. The relief of the fact that this is _not_ some sort of engagement ring helps that drink course through her body even better.

 

“What is it?” She tries to ignore how slurred her speech sounds in her own head.

 

“It’s a wand—I think.” He shrugs. “I’m not magically inclined, so I can’t really use it.”

 

Ariadne reaches out, fingers brushing against the bleached skull. Images of vile things flash through her head, and she retracts her hand as if it has been burned, but, she chocks this up to being so drunk, and not necessarily the magic. The power, though, is evident, and she exhales with a shake of her head.

 

“Why in the Planes are you giving this to _me_?”

 

He shrugs again.

 

“I thought you’d like it.”

 

“‘Cuz it has skulls on it and stuff?”

 

“Well, just one skull.”

 

“But that’s why you thought I’d like it.”

 

“Do you not?”

 

Ariadne shrugs back with a sly smile.

 

“I’ll play around with it before I decide.” She takes the wand in hand and sticks it in a bag to her side. “It’s pretty cool, though.”

 

“You should use it on your next adventure.”

 

Ariadne laughs, taking a sip of her wine.

 

“I’ll think about it. I’d hate to break it or something stupid like that.”

 

“Oh, I don’t think it will break so easily.”

 

With a sigh, Ariadne runs her hands along his black sash once more. Responding to her touch, he brings his free hand up to join with hers. The affection sends a chill down her spine, causing her flesh to erupt in goosebumps. Maybe it’s the drink that is giving her the confidence, but—

 

She leans up to kiss him, pressing her small, delicate lips on his. Immediately, she pulls back, and she shakes her head. But, before she can open her mouth to protest, he leans back in again, bringing his free hand up to cup her face to encourage her to stay in place. Oddly, his lips are quite cold, and she doesn’t know if it’s because of the chill mountain air, or because he’s nervous, but she kisses him back. She can feel him smiling as he kisses her, lips moving slowly with hers, and it causes her heart to flutter. She hasn’t felt like this in such a long time.

 

But before she knows it, she feels him grunt against her lips, and an absence of his warmth. Her eyes open to see him being pulled away from her, and her brow furrows when she notices a familiar head of silver hair, wolf ears angrily laying flat against his head. Her surprise is soon replaced with anger, and she balls her hands into fists before she addresses the situation.

 

“Kuroe!” She shouts. “What do you think you’re doing?”

 

“Stay out of this, Ariadne.” His voice is dark and laced with a foul growl. Anger radiates off him like mad heat, and Ariadne is nearly suffocated by it. After looking over him, she notices he has gone wild. But, she’s too mad to care right now.

 

“I don’t think I _can_.” She tries to match his tone with her own, but it simply cannot be done.

 

“He’s not who you think he is, Ari.”

 

“What are you talking about?” Aerin shoves Kuroe off of him, adjusting his attire accordingly. “Ariadne, control your friend.”

 

“You are a liar.” Kuroe points, eyes glowing in the dark. “You are a liar, and I don’t care to find out what you’re trying to cover up. But, you are a liar.”

 

“Kuroe,” Ariadne moves to stand in between them. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

 

The words hurt him more than he will ever admit. Lately, Ariadne has always been quick to trust him, and he took comfort in that. In the end, all he wants is to protect his precious friend. But, the fact that she is standing here now reluctant to trust his instinct hurts him. It’s like they are back to the beginning, and frankly, he is frustrated with the fact that Ariadne, ever so smart, is being stupid in this regard. Her mistrust only adds fuel to the fire already lit within him.

 

“Is this what I get, Ariadne?” He pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. “After all the times I’ve tried to protect you, tried to save you, you still don’t trust me? This isn’t some _game_.”

 

At this, Kuroe’s new friend intervenes.

 

“So this is the man who’s been going around saying he’s Lord Canonswede?” The dwarf lets out a hearty laugh. “Kuroe, I tell you now, this is not my Lord.”

 

Ariadne furrows her brow, her inebriation alleviating just bit to recognize the barkeep from the tavern in the village. She points at him.

 

“What is this?” She looks back at Aerin. “What is going on?”

 

“Your friend is jealous.” Aerin says, snaking a hand around her waist. “Jealousy is a powerful thing.”

 

Kuroe reaches forward and grabs Ariadne’s hand, pulling her towards him. She spins, her back falling against his chest, but she is quick to turn around and beat her fists against his chest. Kuroe does not move his eyes from Aerin, though, and he just stand still amidst her pitiful hits.

 

“I demand an explanation!” She says. “How dare you come up here and embarrass me like this—why can’t you just let me have this?”

 

“Because he’s using you, Ariadne.” Kuroe says, grip on his friend still iron-tight. She tries to move against him, but he won’t allow it. “I normally mind my business, but I can’t allow him to masquerade around here any longer.”

 

“He’s not using me.” She says, looking up to Aerin. His eyes are locked with Kuroe’s, chest rising and falling quickly as he tries to subdue his anger. Ari can sense he is cornered…he shows all the textbook signs of nervousness. But, why would he be nervous if there was nothing to hide? Doubt weaves its way into her mind, and subconsciously, she sinks back into Kuroe’s hold, trying to ignore the dull pain that begins to root in her chest. “Right, Aerin?”

 

The human’s demeanor changes almost instantly, his princely stature gone as he relaxes. After a moment’s hesitation, the Weave around his body begins to ripple and fade, and his visage begins to come into light for the first time in Ariadne’s eyes. He looks the same, for sure, but his skin is pale, eyes red and teeth long and sharp. Suddenly, the coolness of his lips makes sense.

 

“Undead,” Ariadne whispers under her breath.

 

“Undead.” Kuroe says, but his tone is more murderous.

 

He was right. He was _fucking_ right. There was something about him that always betrayed him. That princely smell was so powerful because he was covering up the smell of death. Instinct begins to bubble up in his body, and his more wild half starts barking, clawing at the inside just begging to be let loose. He wants to sink his claws into flesh, break it, tear it, end it.

 

“I have to admit,” Aerin begins, adjusting his sleeves, “it’s been difficult keeping this disguise up, what with being a vampire and all. Thankfully I had potions to help with the sunlight and all. But, when I heard tale of the powerful necromancer Ariadne, I had to see for myself.”

 

“Shut up.” Ariadne mutters, color draining from her face. “Shut up!”

 

“What? You think that you can just walk around with fame of necromancy and not be sought out? You should be thankful that I’m the first one that did and not someone trying to kill you. Your existence is an enigma. A necromancer saving the world? Ha! But, I do have to thank you. Killing Tiamat gave my Master the opening he needs.”

 

“And who’s that?” Ariadne asks.

 

“You are truly pitiful, despite your power. Who else but the Master of us all? The Breaker of Fate. The Prince of the Undead. The One from whom all your magic flows.”

 

Ariadne can feel Kuroe’s breathing begin to quicken against her back. She knows all to well who Aerin—if that’s even his name—means, but she knows it means _more_ to Kuroe. Her small understanding of the Raven Queen, and the research she had started ever since she returned from the Shadowfell, revealed to her the rivalry between the two gods. But, she wants no part of this. No part of this. None of it.

 

“I put up those spells.” Ariadne spits. “I put them away so I’d never use them again.”

 

“Don’t deny your power, Ariadne. You could be great, you know. Just give in like the Blood Lord wishes you to.”

 

“He does not know me.”

 

“He knows many things, and He knows you by _name_.”

 

Ariadne falls to the floor, tears beginning to well at her eyes. With her body out of the way, Kuroe springs into action, calling Hazirawn to his grip as he lunges forward. Aerin is quick, though, the Liar enveloping himself in a cloud of mist. Suddenly, he’s behind Ariadne, and Kuroe turns on his heel to see him reach for her arm. The half-elf tries to protest, but his grip is strong, and her despair does not help her to gather her thoughts in order to act. Daenar, at the sight of a damsel in distress, lunges forward, hammer high in the air. But Aerin turns to him, pallid hand reaching towards him and straining as he casts magic upon him. Daenar stops dead in his tracks, hammer still high above his head, unable to move. With a dark sneer, the abomination looks forward to Kuroe, bringing Ariadne up in front of him. He holds her arm behind her, twisting it in a way that makes it painful for her to move. The pain of the hold causes her to cry out, and Kuroe snarls, racking his brain for what to do. Normally, in a fight, he’s used to taking the brunt of the damage, especially from Ariadne. But, with the tables turned, it’s not so simple; a trick from the creature or one wrong step could cause him to impale her small body, and that is something he does not want.

 

“Let her go so I can kill you honorably.” Kuroe growls. “If that’s such an honor you deserve.”

 

“I’ve already had my hero’s death.” The creature spits. “No need to do me the honor. Let me leave with the girl. Believe me, it will save you a lot of trouble if you do.”

 

_Did I not tell you this was going to happen?_

 

Hazirawn simply cannot keep quiet. After all, the entity _did_ warn him. Kuroe just couldn’t wrap his head round the fact that it was already happening.

 

 _Not now_ , Kuroe responds in his mind. _Trying to think._

 

_Oh, Bearer, just let him take her. Let him take her and let me feast on her once she becomes a lich. They are so delicious. My favorite meal, other than gods._

 

_Shut up!_

 

Ariadne struggles against his grip once more, and finally, her mind clears. Through the rage, the drink, and the pain, she acts, bringing her free hand up. Her eyes begin to ink over until they finally turn black, and Aerin’s concentration on Kuroe begins to fade. He shakes his head as her power begins to overtake him, and Kuroe watches as the darkness begins to slowly ink through his red eyes, too, until they are overcome. It’s a power Kuroe has never seen her use in person, but one he knows that she has; he saw her use it in the fight against Tiamat, commanding one of her lackeys to help them instead of her. What Kuroe does understand about this power, though, is that it is the mark of a profound necromancer.

 

“ _Let me go_ ,” Ariadne seethes, voice dark and evil. Her new puppet complies after a moments hesitation. Aerin is strong, though, and Ariadne can tell he is trying to break the control she has over him. However, the half-elf knows all too well that if she remains on this rooftop, he will only use her as leverage against Kuroe. She simply cannot allow that.

 

“He’s going to kill you, now.” She says, patting her hand on the side of Aerin’s cold cheek. “You know, I thought I felt so alive when I was with you. But, you just reminded me that I feel the most alive when I’m fueled by rage. I suppose I needed that reminder that I can never be happy.”

 

At this, she turns to her old friend, eyes still black like the depths of the Nine Hells. It does not hide the redness from her tears, though, and Kuroe waits for her to speak.

 

“He’s all yours, now, boys.” And at that, she envelopes herself in that same mist that surrounded Aerin, disappearing from sight.

 

The blackness in Aerin’s eyes begins to slowly fade, but instead of acting out in rage, he laughs, gripping his gut as he bends over.

 

“Send me to my Master, dog. I have much to tell him now that I’ve tasted her power personally.” He digs his hands into his bag after he gathers himself, pulling out the grimoire that he took from Ariadne’s study, along with the scroll she took from the Mage Tower that contained a spell on how to create dracoliches. “I don’t need these anymore.”

 

The back of Kuroe’s cloak begins to ruffle as he calls upon its power—to transform into large, black raven wings. With this, he increases the speed with which he connects with Aerin, gripping him tightly by the throat. He knows that he doesn’t need to breathe, necessarily, but he knows it still hurts him, and as he grips him, his sharp nails dig into his dead flesh, causing pools of blood that lay stagnant in the vampire’s veins to run out. Aerin tries to grip at his hand, but his fingers cannot find purchase as Kuroe uses his wings to lift him up, far above the fort’s roof. Aerin knows his end is nigh, but he won’t go without a warning.

 

“The seeds…are sewn, mutt.” He seethes through Kuroe’s grip, voice struggling to make its way out. “Others will come…He will not stop his pursuit. He wishes…to have the One who helped defeat Tiamat.”

 

Kuroe bears his teeth, fangs glinting in the moonlight.

 

“Then let them come, asshole.” He tightens his grip, the bones beginning to snap under his strength. “I will destroy each and every one that tries. Just like you.”

 

Hazirawn vibrates as Kuroe brings it up, shoving the blade in Aerin’s torso. The weapon cries out in pleasure as it saps the necrotic energy keeping Aerin alive, and Kuroe watches as his skin begins to wither with age. His cheeks begin to hollow, and his eyes begin to dry out; but before Kuroe can watch the process to completion, he grips his neck firmly and wedges the blade down, slicing through the bottom part of his torso all the way down to his groin. Daenar, now free from Aerin’s spell, watches as the entrails fall from the sky, blood shining in the moonlight as it falls like rain. He covers his mouth as they fall to the roof with a large smack; the smell is terrible, and Daenar tries his best to keep it together. However, he can’t look away. It truly is a sight to be seen.

 

Once the initial rush of adrenaline leaves him, Kuroe tosses the body to the ground, flying gently back towards the roof with Daenar. The dwarf nods, taking in the fact that Kuroe is covered in Undead blood.

 

“Maybe you are the most powerful Greyblade after all.” Daenar says, handing him a handkerchief to wipe the blood off his face. Kuroe does, and when he hands it back, the dwarf insists that it’s his now and he has no intention of taking it back.

 

“Maybe so.”

 

“So…what now?”

 

Kuroe looks down at the courtyard, the people down there still wrapped in their revelry, barely taking notice that Kuroe just sliced a vampire in twain. Hazirawn is still buzzing in his grip, and he knows that it demands to be cleaned after a kill, but it will simply have to wait.

 

“I have a vampire I have to make sure won’t come back.” Kuroe says, stuffing his new handkerchief in his pocket. “And a friend to console. You enjoy your party, Daenar.”

 

The dwarf watches as the half-breed walks down the stairs, and he shakes his head. Perhaps the Greyblades taking residence in the fort near Canonswede will bring a little more excitement to the area than he thought. Maybe a little more than he will want. But, after seeing this display, he’s never felt safer. He just hopes that his tavern remains intact.


	4. heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And it all leads to this.

It’s been a few weeks since Highharvestide, and Ariadne finds herself in her study. Well, most of the time, she’s either in her study or her room, and has found it hard to be anywhere else. The shame, the utter embarrassment of the events of that night were hard to get over, plus the fact that her heart was hurt. Not broken, but hurt, and still painful. It’s not because she felt so much love for Aerin or anything like that, but the fact that she thought she could have happiness—just a little taste of it—and for a moment, she did. But, she was reminded of how her decisions in her past will forever prohibit her of that happiness. So, instead of thinking about it, and wondering how to achieve it, she decides to drown herself in studies. Currently, she finds herself nose-deep in a book on horse-breeding—you never know when that will come in handy.

She licks her fingers to give it traction to turn the page, revealing a rather graphic study of horse anatomy. Her initial repulse is replaced by intrigue, and she brings it close to her face to look at it wide-eyed.

“Disgusting,” she says, not sounding disgusted at all as she turns the page again.

Suddenly, a humming comes from the bag on her side. Ariadne ignores it for a moment, though, as she is used to it by now. Over the past few weeks, the wand that Aerin gifted her has been vibrating every now and then. At one point, Ariadne wished to destroy it. But, upon examining it further, she realized it’s much too powerful to simply destroy, and she’d have to be a little more creative on that front in order to get away with it without, say, blowing up the entire fort. That’s a conversation she doesn’t want to have with Balasar.

The humming grows louder, and she groans, snapping her book shut before reaching into her bag, summoning the skeletal wand. As soon as it makes contact with her hands, the humming stops, and a surge of power courses through her like a ripple on a lake. It causes her to shiver. She decides, now, that she is uncomfortable having this item in her possession, and if she doesn’t know how to destroy it, she must find out how to get rid of it. Something she has been avoiding for some time is identifying the wand with magic. She’s afraid of what she will learn from it. But, with a sigh, she realizes that it’s something she just has to do at this point. Either that, or throwing it in some lake in the mountains where some other poor bastard can come across it. Better them than her.

She picks up the wand and walks it over to a small altar that she has set up. On the table top, there are runes situated around a circle that helps her amplify some of her spells, identify being one of them. When she places the wand atop the altar, the gem in the skull’s mouth shimmers brightly, reacting in a small manner to the runic magic around it. Ari’s brow furrows, knowing that it is either trying to draw power from the magic around it, or simply not agreeing with the magic used to amplify the altar. Knowing the way that it came into her possession, and who it belonged to beforehand, she knows the answer to that. She just didn’t want to admit it.

The half-elf outstretches her hands and closes her eyes, weaving spindles of investigative magic all around the wand. The spindles poke and prod the item, trying to find out information about every crevice. The initial information she gets is that it’s a real skull—a gnome skull—and the handle is wood. She knew that. The gem in the center is a diamond. She didn’t know that. But to go deeper will take time. Her spell takes about an hour to complete fully, but once her magic penetrates its protective aura, images of death and bubbling entrails enter her mind. Ripping flesh and rotting skin, blood pooling across the floor. She then sees herself, reaching out, touching the wand, her hair turning white and eyes red. Outside of her mind, Ariadne’s nose begins to bleed, the stress from the spell taking its toll on her. The magic begins to overload her senses. Before she knows it, her eyes roll into the back of her head, and she falls backwards with a large thump. Darkness takes over her, and for the first time in a long time, she is thankful for darkness.

After a while, Ariadne wakes up, touching the blood that came from her nose. It is dried, now, so she must have been out for some time. But, as she comes into full consciousness, she remembers exactly what she saw, and she knows that wand in its entirety.

And she is frightened.

She knows why Aerin gave her this wand, that tricky, lying bastard. Tears begin to well at the corners of her eyes as she recalls the events of Highharvestide, but she cannot help but feel so stupid and naïve. The regret, the embarrassment has overshadowed her for some time, now, and this…this knowledge of the wand itself only cements it. He gave her this artifact, this dangerous thing, because he was confident that she would let the power overtake her. He was confident that she had the power to wield it. He was confident that she would go bad, and perhaps that bothers her the most. Her reputation haunts her now in a different way.

Quickly, she jostles up taking the wand in hand, trying her best to ignore the images that begin flashing in her mind. They are stronger, now, and she fears that trying to Identify it gave it a spark of magic to make it stronger, or more active. The attention, she assumes, woke it from its slumber. As she opens her bag of holding, voices she cannot decipher fill her head, and she finds herself having a hard time just…letting go. Her eyes watch, waiting for her hand to simply drop it into the bag where it will disappear from her mind for good, but her hands do not comply. They hold on to it, feeling the texture of the wood and the smoothness of the gem inside of the skull’s mouth. It is captivating, truly a masterpiece. Maybe she should just—

No.

Ariadne shouts in frustration as she finally throws it into her bag, quickly pulling the strings shut around it. Never before has she been this thankful for her bag of tricks, and she is grateful that it sends the wand to a separate plane, far away from her. But, it doesn’t stop the images. It doesn’t stop the faint voices inside her head. It doesn’t stop. She has to get rid of it. She has to get rid of it _now_. Her musing earlier of throwing it in some lake in the mountains seems foreign to her—now that she knows what it is, and who it truly belongs to, she must destroy it. It doesn’t deserve to exist any longer.

Ariadne looks out of the window and sees that it is still daylight, the sun hanging high in the sky. She has time to make it to Waterdeep and back, if she’s quick; or, she could use her teleportation spell. For some odd reason, though, she seems adverse to her own magic right now. She decides that traveling normally would be best, and she quickly gathers herself before exiting her study, forgetting about the dried blood on her upper lip.

The half-elf hurries down the hall, trying her best to stay out of sight. She doesn’t want any of the other Greyblades asking her questions. Lying to them is something she takes no pride in, but if she must, she must, and as she snakes her way through the fort, her mind tries to come up with a lie just in case she can’t avoid them. After all, she’s not the sneakiest of the group, despite her looks.

As she hurries down the stairs and turns the corner, she can hear Kuroe training in the courtyard. Part of her heart aches at the sound; she hasn’t resumed her training with him since that day a few weeks ago. In fact, she hasn’t really spoken to him in those few weeks. It’s not that she’s mad at him, or that she’s _trying_ to avoid him, but isolating herself was the only way she could cope with what happened. She hopes that his sensitive soul—the one that only she knows about—isn’t taking the avoidance so hard. It’s not personal, for her, and with her knowledge of the wand in her possession, perhaps it’s for the best. She will destroy it for him and his beloved Raven Queen. It’s only right.

But, Kuroe is wise, perhaps wiser than she gives him credit, and as soon as she hits the courtyard, her smell billows to his nose. It’s not like he can’t smell her throughout the fort; she does live here, after all. But, the _direct_ smell of her within his vicinity is something he cannot ignore. It’s been weeks since he’s seen her, spoke to her, and frankly, it hurts him in a way he cannot explain. What he does know is that he’s slightly angry about it. It’s not like he did anything wrong. Aerin was a pest, an undead fiend that was using her for his own benefit—using her for things Kuroe would rather not think about now that he is out of the picture. Did she not give him the opening to kill him? Did she not give her consent? Kuroe’s confusion, which has plagued him for weeks, cannot go unanswered for a moment longer. Not while she’s out in the open, free from her locked door. No, he must address it.

The half-breed drops his practice sword in the sand beneath him, and as he walks, his body urges him to hurry. His steps become quicker, faster, and he jumps over the gate instead of opening it, an act that would take too long. Kuroe knows that he only has a short time before she disappears again, and with her being in the courtyard, towards the entrance, his nose surmises, he knows that she has intent to leave. But where would she go? Why would she leave? Why would she leave without telling him again?

It’s not long before her scent becomes strong, and he knows she’s close. He doesn’t realize that he is fully sprinting, chasing, seeking her out. As he turns the corner of the entrance that leads towards the stables, he sees her walking towards it, and his tunnel vision intensifies as he dashes towards her.

“Ariadne,” he calls out, shocked at himself for sounding out of breath. She turns quickly, her black cloak spinning with her, and her eyes are wide and scared. There are many things to take into account as she turns—it’s been a long time since he’s seen her, after all. But perhaps the most shocking, to him, is that her long, black hair is…gone. The strands now lie just above her shoulders, where it once reached all the way to the small of her back. Not only that, but her eyes…they seem sunken and dark, like she hasn’t slept in the weeks of her isolation. He’s seen this look before, what with her trauma after the Shadowfell, but this seems…deeper, worse. He wonders if it has anything to do with the smear of blood beneath her nose. Her appearance takes him aback, and he knows he can’t truly hide it, and Ariadne clicks her tongue in frustration as she turns back around, continuing her trek towards the stables.

“Goodbye, Kuroe.” She says, opening the gate. But, he chases after her still.

“No, you can’t leave yet.”

“I can leave when I want to.” She says, picking up a brush to wipe down the back of the smaller horse, the one meant for her. Kuroe watches her do this, mind trying to process her words.

“I’m not saying you can’t. I’m just…concerned.”

“About what?”

Kuroe shakes his head.

“Well, for starters, you have fucking blood on your face. That’s not normally a good thing.”

Ariadne’s eyes widen, and she quickly brings her hand up to her nose, wiping away the blood that was left.

“It’s the dry mountain air. I’ve been waking up with nosebleeds.”

Her eyes are averted from him, shoulders hiked up as if creating a wall between them. These are her tells that she is lying.

“That’s a good lie, but it’s still a lie. What is going on?”

“Nothing, Kuroe. I just need to go into Waterdeep.”

“Why?”

“Zackarot has asked to see me. I realize I haven’t seen him in a while, and he is probably worried that I’ve abandoned him.”

Kuroe shakes his head again.

“I need you to stop lying to me, Ari.”

The half-elf groans, tossing the brush aside before walking over to grab the saddle. As she tries to hoist it, she realizes she is weaker than normal, and she can’t exactly lift it off the mount. Before she can try again, Kuroe is standing between her and the horse, closer than he was before, his face contorted with concern. She knows that it is hard to lie to Kuroe. Not only does he know her better than the rest of the Greyblades, but he also has heightened senses. She doesn’t know exactly _how_ heightened his sense of smell and hearing are, but she figures he can probably smell the lies on her. Ariadne feels cornered, now, and she never truly likes feeling cornered. Her anger begins to bubble up. _Leave me alone_ , she thinks. _Please, please, Kuroe, just let me go._

“I can’t tell you.” She whispers. “I can’t.”

“You can tell me anything.” He retorts.

“No,” she says. “I can’t. Not this time. I need to go to Waterdeep—”

“If you are mad at me, that’s fine. But please give me an explanation for why you’ve been avoiding me. I can’t stand it, Ariadne. I can’t.”

Ariadne’s eyes widen, and she crooks her head in confusion. Realization hits her, though, and she slumps, sighing as she finally lets go of the saddle.

“I’m not mad at you, Kuroe.”

“Then _why_?”

“It’s so complicated. I really just...I really don’t want to get into it right now.”

“Ariadne, I can’t leave until you tell me. I don’t like being this way, but I need to know. I fucking deserve to know.”

He does. She surmises she can tell him the truth…for the most part. With a sigh, she walks over to a small bench, realizing suddenly that standing is exhausting. She sits, rubbing her head as she tries to come up with the words to say.

“I’m not mad at you for killing Aerin.” She begins, bringing her hand down from her forehead. “I wanted you to kill him. Remember?”

“Yes.” His words are short so she will continue talking.

“I am thankful for that. I am thankful that you always protect me. Know that, now. I will never be ungrateful for it.”

Kuroe nods. Ariadne sighs.

“I just felt…stupid. As someone who is studious, someone who drowns herself in research at all times, I pride myself on my smarts. When I feel like an idiot, it hurts me. Physically. I know that must sound so silly to you, but it does. I told you to trust me. I told you I didn’t trust him. But, in reality, I did. He was kind to me; he buttered me up. Truth be told, I trusted him from the moment he showed interest in me.”

“What do you mean, interest?”

“Oh, Kuroe. You know… _interest_. Like, sexual, I guess.”

“Oh.” The half-breed’s ears lay back. The sight causes Ariadne to crack a smile for the first time in days.

“Anyways. I let my guard down. I wanted so badly to be loved, I guess. And I got bit in the ass by it. It was humiliating, for me. A humiliating reminder that I don’t deserve that sort of stuff. After my fiancé, I don’t think I will ever find it. He was my one chance at happiness, and I blew it. So, when Aerin came into the picture, I was…I don’t know, hopeful. Do you know what it’s like to be hopeful and then…it’s just…crushed?”

Kuroe purses his lips as he thinks.

“A little bit.”

“It sucks. Looking back on it, I knew it was too good to be true. But, that’s what hurts even more. The signs were there. I just refused to see them because I was so…so stupid. So hopeful about something that will never happen for me again. So, that’s why I went into hiding. I was in pain because of my own actions. It wasn’t you. I swear it.”

After a long pause, Kuroe sighs.

“That makes sense.” He says, watching her dig the toe of her boot in the dirt. She does that a lot. Her mannerisms during this conversation makes him realize just how much he has missed her company. “But there’s something you say that doesn’t make sense to me.”

Ariadne’s brows furrow. She thought she was quite clear.

“What?”

“You say you don’t deserve happiness. You said it that night, too.”

The half-elf shrugs, surprised by the directness of his question, and slightly weighed-down by the deepness of it.

“I mean, I don’t.”

“I told you to stop lying.”

“I’m not lying. It’s true. My reputation is just so…sordid, now.”

“You saved the world. It doesn’t matter how you did it.”

“It matters to a lot of people, I think. But, at any rate, I should have known someone like him wouldn’t be truly interested in someone like me. I mean, look at me. Who would want to be with me?”

Kuroe snarls at this, and it is an absentminded act. But, he cannot comprehend why she would say something like this. She is strong, she is powerful, and she is caring. Are not those the characteristics to look for in a mate? She checks off all the boxes. He decides to lend her some comfort on the matter.

“I would.” He says. Realistically, he means it, and somewhere, deep down in his heart, he is screaming at this confession; but in this case, it is a factual observation. “You are kind, strong, and intelligent. Those are all good qualities of a mate.”

Ariadne stares at him for a moment, and then laughs. Her laugh is sweet, like the sound of birds chirping in Spring, but he would never admit how much he likes it. Even though her laughter is directed at him in a mocking way, he cannot help but feel warm inside at the sound of it. He has missed her laughter, and if he is the subject of it for the moment, he will allow it.

“Sometimes I forget how bestial you can be. Mate? Ah, that’s just…so funny, to me.”

“Is that not the right word?”

Ariadne wipes a tear from her cheek.

“It’s a word for it. More of a primal thing, I think.”

“Oh, well.” He mimics her actions of kicking his boot in the dirt, but it’s a little bit stronger than hers. He ends up slinging some dirt across the room. “What would you call it, then?”

Ariadne looks up to the ceiling of the stable as she thinks, tongue peeking out to run along her lips as she does. Kuroe’s heart beats at the sight of it. It looks warm, inviting. Gods, damn it.

“Mate implies breeding, I suppose. Breeding only. I’ve been reading a book—well, never mind. But, as a wolf, it makes sense. Those qualities are needed for survival. You wouldn’t want to mate with someone that can’t survive.”

“Exactly. So, what’s the right word, then?”

“I suppose it would be ‘lover.’”

Kuroe crinkles his nose.

“That is sexual, isn’t it?”

“So is ‘mate.’ Lover implies that love is involved. But then, more than that, for us, there is marriage and stuff. You don’t really have that as a wolf, but are you familiar with the term?”

“Yes.”

“I mean _familiar_ familiar. Not that you’ve heard the word in conversation.”

“ _Yes_.”

“Okay, okay. But I guess what I’m saying is, there’s levels, here. Base instinct, love, and then, like a pact, or something.”

“Humans are complicated.” Kuroe squints. “Mate implies all of those things.”

Ariadne smiles.

“I suppose we’ll have to agree to disagree.”

Kuroe, now happy with her explanation—well, not _happy_ , seeing as how she is sad and he wants her to be happy—slaps his thighs before standing. He walks over to the saddle and picks it up easily and sets it atop the horse. Ariadne watches as he does this, heart fluttering as he looks up every so often to flash her a smile. She has missed his company, and the previous conversation is evidence of that. A twinge of guilt begins to wash over her. Maybe it’s time to tell him the truth…in parts.

“I’m going to Waterdeep to do some research.” Her mouth remains open, trying to usher the rest of the truth out, but it does not come.

“For what?” Kuroe asks, tightening the belts of the saddle around the horse. He then checks it for tightness, and pats the neck of the horse when he’s done.

“I need to do some research about something a little personal.”

“Can I give you my opinion?”

“Sure.”

“You look like you need rest. Perhaps you shouldn’t travel by horse, but…you can teleport to Waterdeep, can’t you?”

“Yes.” She says after some hesitation. “But, I don’t feel...up to teleporting right now.”

The half-breed purses his lips as he thinks. The information she gives him isn’t exactly enough, and he knows that she is keeping something from him. But, she seems to be insistant on going, no matter what he says.

“Do…do you want to come with me?” She asks after a moment.

Kuroe blinks. He won’t lie: whenever she mentioned going to Waterdeep, those were the words he longed to hear. Well, that or “Okay, Kuroe, I’ll stay.” But, he knew he wouldn’t get the latter. He scans her carefully, making sure that her offer is genuine. When he finds no jest, he nods.

“It would make me feel more comfortable , yes.”

At that, he mounts the horse. This particular horse is a bit too small for him, but he would rather not have Ariadne riding solo, not in her weak condition. If she could barely pick up the saddle earlier, she could probably not sit up for an extended period of time by herself. Plus, he wouldn’t exactly mind having Ariadne so close to him for a couple of hours. It would certainly make up for the lack of companionship between the two of them in the last few weeks. He directs the horse over to her, reaching down with a toothy grin. She rolls her eyes, grin matching his as she reaches up to him. He pulls her up, and she twists her body to mount the horse properly, keeping her arms close to her body as he wraps his around her in order to take the reins.

Ariadne settles into his warmth, and Kuroe brings his hips slightly forward to be flush with her back in order to support her better. She hums with delight, resting her head back on one of his shoulders. Kuroe smiles to himself, ushering the horse to move along.

“By the way,” he says, voice vibrating in his chest and in Ari’s ears, “you cut your hair.”

“Oh,” Ariadne says, bringing her hand up to play with her fresh ends. “Do you hate it?”

“No. It’s just different.”

“That is man-talk for ‘I hate it.’”

Kuroe furrows his brow.

“What does that mean?”

“Oh, you know. Men enjoy being vague, I suppose, in order to spare a woman’s feelings.”

The half-breed huffs, directing the horse to walk down the ramp that leads off the plateau.

“I’m not like that. Your hair is different. But, I like it.”

“Really?”

“Yes. It suits you.”

The half-elf smiles, trying to hide her now-red cheeks. Sometimes, Kuroe’s direct nature can be quite sweet.

“Thanks. I cut it in a fit of…I don’t know. I was frustrated with what had happened. I hated looking at myself in the mirror because of it. So, I cut my hair. I immediately regretted it, but it will grow back.”

“You don’t like it?”

“Not really. I feel like I look like a child.”

Kuroe shakes his head.

“On the contrary, you look mature.”

“Are you saying it makes me look…old?”

“Ariadne. Don’t make me throw you off this plateau.”

The half-elf laughs.

“Please don’t.”

 

~~~~

 

Once they get off the plateau ramp, it does not take long for Ariadne to go to sleep. Kuroe is thankful, though, because he knows she couldn’t have made this trip without a little help. Unfortunately for them, it almost immediately begins raining once she does fall asleep, and Kuroe struggles to reach for the blanket in the side-saddle pack in order to wrap it around his sleeping friend. As soon as it shields her from the rain, she adjusts herself to take further refuge in his warmth, which causes Kuroe to sigh happily as he puts up his hood.

Their conversation from earlier causes him to meditate on her words. There was a lot to unpack, specifically her feelings about the incident during Highharvestide. He is so very grateful that she isn’t angry at him. But, he wonders just how he can help her come to terms with what has happened. The last thing he wants is for her to continue life thinking that she does not deserve happiness. Of all the Greyblades, Kuroe thinks, she deserves it most of all. She, who put aside her prejudice to welcome him. She, who put her safety in danger in order to help him with his dragon egg. She, who fought alongside him to save the world. She deserves happiness. In fact, it makes him sad that she feels this way.

Then, his mind shifts to their conversation on mates. Well, _his_ conversation on mates, not hers. After all, she insists that it’s not the right term. Lovers, spouses, whatever she means, she thinks she doesn’t deserve one after the loss of her fiancé. He really wishes she would stop selling herself so short, as anyone would be happy to have her as a mate. Not only would she provide them with the typical things a mate does, such as children and companionship. But, she is also strong. She could protect their children. With her smarts, she could teach their children things that no school can do, and above all else, teach them how to grow up and be good people. Her mate would always be entertained, too, for Ariadne is quick-witted and funny. Her curiosity knows no bounds, and she finds the little things so very interesting. Kuroe has once heard the phrase, “stop and smell the roses.” He thinks she’s the kind to do that, and then when she’s done smelling them, pick them and stow them for use later. He likes that about her a lot.

Wait. He likes her, but…as a friend. Right? Even if he does have some sort of interest in her, there is no way that she would—or should—return the feeling. Kuroe is rough and wild, and she is so very delicate and small. He would break her, if not her heart. There are things she cannot have if she were to ever be with him. Things that most mates provide. The pain in this realization begins to seep into his chest, and he takes a deep breath in order to calm the storm building inside of him. But, suddenly, Ariadne stirs in front of him. As the rain begins to let up a little, he lifts up the blanket to check on her. She is still sleeping, which is a good thing; she needs as much rest as she can get. But she is murmuring something in her sleep. Kuroe wonders if it is a dream about the Shadowfell, and he brings a free hand up to hers to grip it in case she needs help. But, when he touches her hand, he is concerned with how cold she is. After a moment of hesitation, he urges the horse to pull of the the side of the tree line. He carefully dismounts, making sure Ariadne does not fall in the process, and he lifts her off gently, placing her back against a tree while he sits her down. Quickly, he ties the horse to the tree, and once he deems it tight enough, he turns back to his friend.

“Ariadne,” he touches her face, which is cold as ice. “Ariadne, wake up.”

Ariadne’s eyes remain shut, and she barely registers any consciousness. Kuroe pats her cheek softly, watching her head bob with the momentum.

“Ariadne, please, wake up.” He asks, voice beginning to sound more like a beg. “Fuck, Ariadne, don’t do this to me!”

Instinct tells him he needs to start a fire to bring her body temperature up, but the rain has made everything soaking wet. But, maybe, he thinks, magic can help him in this regard. He makes sure that Ariadne is comfortable and then sets off to find a good amount of wood within the tree line. It takes him a few minutes, and he is lucky enough to find some wood that isn’t _too_ wet. But, when he returns, he sees Ariadne is no longer there—and neither is the horse. What alarms him even more than that is the smell of blood—the horse’s blood—and Kuroe drops the wood to the ground before running out into the open.

“Ari!” He shouts. “Ari!”

Suddenly, the sound of an animal shouting can be heard from across the road. Kuroe sprints, his ears trying their best to determine the source of the sound. The smell of blood fills his nose again, but this time, it’s different. He panics, praying softly to the Raven Queen that it isn’t Ariadne’s. It’s too far away at the moment for him to tell. A rustle in the brush directs his attention to his left, and he turns, and when he passes a thicket of wild rose bushes, his eyes widen at what he sees.

Ariadne is standing before the corpse of a felled deer, and a large one at that. But, this is no magical kill. No, the fur is not singed by the Weave, but it is wet and matted with blood. With her back turned to Kuroe, he watches as she brings her knife up, driving it into the side of the beast while she carves runes into its flesh. She dips her fingers into the wounds and brings them to her face, and he can hear her tasting it with her small, delicate lips. She does it again, but this time, she does not taste it. This time, she brings her fingers to her face, dragging the blood from the beast across her cheeks, drawing a rune on her forehead. It is then that her eyes go black, and she sinks her fingers into the flesh of the corpse before ripping it apart, strength foreign to her tiny body. Kuroe can’t watch anymore, and he bolts forward, grabbing her by the shoulder in order to pull her away. In his rough removal of her, she falls back, head snapping against the trunk of a tree. The half-elf cries out, gripping at the back of her head as the blackness disappears from her eyes.

“What the hell, Kuroe?” What—“ Her eyes open to look down at her clothes, soaked in blood. “What…what happened?”

Ariadne’s breathing begins to quicken as she slowly scans the scene: Kuroe’s frightened face, the dead deer, and her bloody hands. The knife, which is still stuck in the deer’s side, is her knife. The taste of copper and texture of sinew is prevalent in her mouth.

“K-Kuroe…” she whispers, tears falling down her face, cutting through the blood on her cheeks. “Kuroe…oh _gods_ , Kuroe…”

The half-breed watches her confusion bloom, but he cannot erase the fear that he feels for his friend. Hazirawn, situated proudly on his back, begins to buzz and cackle behind him. A deep feeling begins to sink in his gut. Aerin’s words begin to ricochet through his skull.

 _A seed has been planted indeed._ Hazirawn says. _A deadly one. I can smell it. It’s feeding off of her, controlling her. She hides it._

Kuroe eyes her suspiciously, and the look causes Ariadne to despair even further. She cries out to him, begging him to tell him what happened, why they stopped traveling, where the horse is. But, Kuroe cannot ignore the fact that Hazirawn is right. He cannot comfort her. Not yet.

“You’re hiding something from me.” Kuroe says.

“I don’t know what to do,” she says over and over again. “Gods, I don’t know what to do. I shouldn’t have done it. I shouldn’t have tried to Identify it. It’s awake, now, and it wants me. It wants me, I think. Gods, Kuroe, I have to destroy it. Please, please…”

“What is it?” Kuroe asks, voice dark. “Show it to me.”

Ariadne shakes her head.

“Don’t ask me to touch it again. I can’t. I can’t do it.”

“Ariadne, if you don’t show it to me willingly, I’ll make you.”

Ariadne openly weeps as she grabs the bag on the side of her hip, untying the extremely tight knot she tied in it earlier. She sniffles as she turns the bag inside out, all sorts of things falling from it. However, the last item that falls out is the wand, and Ariadne cries as she tries to shuffle away from it.

“He gave it to me.” She says, pointing at it. “He gave it to me and I tried to forget it. I tried to forget it because it was _his_. And then…this morning, this morning it called to me. I was curious, I’m so sorry, I was curious so…so I tried to Identify it. I shouldn’t have done that. I shouldn’t have touched it. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know!”

As soon as the wand comes into view, Hazirawn cries out with joy.

_Kuroe, I was right. It’s the power I mentioned to you. It’s His power, in that wand. Normally, I’d ask you to let her take it, let her have it and go bad so I can taste her. But, I can’t wait. Let me destroy that wand. Let me destroy it, let me feast on it. I need it, Bearer._

Kuroe is quick to reach forward and grab it, but Ariadne tries to stop him.

“Kuroe, d-don’t touch it. Please, don’t let it get to you.”

Kuroe laughs.

“I am not weak like you, Ariadne. You should have told me about this sooner.” Regardless of her warning, he touches the wand. No images come to his head, and no voices, but he can feel the power off of it. It causes his hair to stand on end. Kuroe places the wand atop of a rock, and he aims Hazirawn against it. The blade vibrates, and Kuroe arcs back. But, as he brings it down, an invisible force repels the blade. Hazirawn hisses, begging Kuroe to breach forward, move forward, try harder, but he can’t. When he stops, Hazirawn is ricocheted across the woods, but Kuroe calls it back to his hand before it goes too far.

“What the fuck is it?”

“A relic,” Ari says through fresh tears that fall as she watches his failed attempt. “I thought it was just a wand. It’s not. It’s… _His_.”

Kuroe’s eyes dart down. A relic of Orcus, then. Seeds have been planted indeed.

“I wanted to find a way to destroy it in Waterdeep. I have to, Kuroe. It cannot exist on this Plane.”

“I agree.” He says, swinging Hazirawn once more. “Let me try one more time.”

This time, he brings Hazirawn down with a great force, stronger, more focused. The blade howls in his mind as he slowly begins to break through the barrier. Closer and closer the blade gets, and Kuroe thinks he almost has it until Ariadne jumps at him from the side, hissing and biting at him, cursing in a language he has never heard her speak. She scratches at him, but he is quick to shove her off. He tries to be delicate about it, but the force with which she attacks him is too great for him to try and be nice. She falls back with a thud, head snapping against the ground hard enough to knock her out. Kuroe’s chest rises and falls rapidly, eyes darting in between the wand and the figure of his friend. She’s right: it needs to be destroyed. But, he cannot help but be angry. If she hadn’t have locked herself away they could have addressed it before it was too late. Gods, he hopes it’s not too late.

With a defeated look, Kuroe bends down to pick up the wand once more. It hums in his grip, and his hair stand on end again, and he shivers, shoving it into one of his side bags before he turns to Ariadne. Thoughts begin racing through his mind, specifically his promise to the Raven Queen. But, it was a two-fold promise. Yes, he promised the Raven Queen that if Ariadne went over the edge, he would kill her. But, he promised first that he would never let it happen. And he won’t. Not to Ariadne.

Suddenly, a rustling comes from behind him, and he sees the horse from earlier. Apparently, Ariadne had only got to the horse’s ear with her knife, as the rest of the horse seems fine. It huffs and whines, looking to Kuroe for what to do next. He runs his hand along the horse’s snout, uttering a silent thank you as he turns, picks up his half-elf friend, and continues to Waterdeep.

 

~~~~

 

Ariadne finds herself in a warm bed when she finally wakes up. There’s a sharp pain in her head, and as her consciousness comes back, she reaches her hand up to touch her head, wondering if there was a physical source to the pain. Much to her surprise, there is a small gash just above her hairline, and she winces as her fingers find it. Weakly, she uses her elbows to prop herself up, eyes scanning the room of the inn to find Kuroe sitting silently in the corner, nursing a mug of ale, probably.

“What happened?” She asks, voice groggy.

“How much to you remember?”

Ariadne furrows her brow as she tries to remember some small detail. She remembers waking up, she remembers doing the identify spell, and she remembers leaving the fort with Kuroe. She also remembers the interesting diagram from the book she was reading. What she does not remember is how she got here.

“I suppose I don’t remember much. The last thing I remember is leaving the fort.”

Kuroe takes a sip, crossing his legs as he thinks.

“Makes sense.”

“So, what happened?” She asks. “Did I just sleep the whole way here?”

“Oh, no. You didn’t.”

Ariadne’s heart begins to race, nervous about what he means.

“I don’t like your tone.”

“And I don’t like you keepin’ secrets from me.” He says. “That secret about that dumb wand could have got you fucking killed, Ari.”

 _The wand_.

Ariadne is quick to look for her bag, but Kuroe tells her to stop.

“No need to worry. I took care of it.”

“Wh-what?” She blinks. “How did you find—I mean, I didn’t tell you…but how did you find out? How did you take care of it? Is it gone?”

“Yeah, it’s gone. I gave it to the Raven Queen temple here, where I saw the priests destroy it. But, I hope next time you find some fucking evil artifact, you don’t keep it from me. You tell me. We will figure it out together.”

“I didn’t find it. It was given to me.”

“You told me.”

“I did?”

“Yeah.”

“What else did I say?”

Kuroe takes a deep breath before he begins.

“Well, you didn’t say much. You fell asleep as soon as the horse came off the ramp. I stopped because you were cold to the touch, and thought you might be sick. When I came back from getting firewood, you and the horse were both gone, and the horse’s blood was rank all over the place. I searched for you and found you cutting up a deer carcass that you had killed, carving runes into its dead body and everything. You painted its blood on your face, your eyes went black, and then you started tearing it apart. I think you were eating it because of the blood all around your mouth when I pulled your ass off. You came to, told me what it was, and I tried to destroy it—twice. The second time you attacked me and gave me this scratch I have on my face. You said a lot in a language I didn’t understand, so there’s that, too.”

Ariadne’s face goes pale, paler than normal.

“Gods…”

“Yeah, gods.”

The half-elf brings her hands into her lap, twirling her fingers together as she processes the information that Kuroe gave her. She begins to sniffle, softly, and Kuroe rolls his eyes. _Not now_ , he thinks. _Not this time._

“Don’t do that.”

“What?”

“You don’t get to cry.”

Ariadne’s brow furrows as she wipes the tears from her face.

“Excuse me?”

“Do you have any idea how scared I was?” Kuroe says after shaking his head. “Do you have any idea how fucking terrified I was that I was going to lose you?”

“I’ve been through a hell of a lot of shit these past few months.” Ariadne says, pointing to her chest. “And, don’t talk to me about losing me. You have no idea why I went through when I lost you to Tiamat. That shit was terrible. I may shed a few tears now, but I’ve never cried like that before. _Never_.”

“If I lost you to something like that, I don’t think I could simply bring you back like you did with me. It’s different. You’d be bound to Orcus that way, and the Raven Queen—”

“Look, Kuroe. I didn’t know. I didn’t know it was an artifact of Orcus. And when I found out, I guess it took over me. I didn’t think any of that would happen.”

“You should have known that anything that swine gave you would be bad. Yet you kept it. Did you still ache for him at night or something? Did you still long for him even though he was an undead scourge?”

“Kuroe!” Ariadne shouts. “How could you say that?”

“Forgive me for trying to understand why in the Nine Hells you would keep such a thing and not tell me about it!”

“I don’t have to tell you everything!” She shouts, standing up from the bed. “You are not my keeper!”

“Fine, then. I won’t look after you anymore.”

“Fine!”

Kuroe bolts up from the chair and walks to the door, but before he can open it, he pauses. The adrenaline running through his veins is causing him to be bold. Perhaps too bold. But he can’t leave this room without letting her know just how much it hurts him—why he is so angry.

“When I woke up this morning,” he says, fingers lazily letting go of the doorknob. “I was angry because I thought I had upset you. I never in my life would have guessed that I was going to have to fight for your soul.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Ari, do you remember our conversation this morning? The one in the stables? You told me you thought you didn’t deserve happiness.”

“Why are you bringing this up, Kuroe?”

“Because, Ariadne. You don’t understand why I’m so upset. You deserve to know.” He takes a deep breath. “I want you, more than anything, to be happy in this world.”

The half elf blinks.

“Kuroe—”

He doesn’t let her finish. Instead, he takes a few steps forward, coming a bit closer to her. The beast inside of him begins to stir, thoughts running through his head of how this could possibly go. There’s a bed, right there…No, he shakes his head. Stop it.

“The thought of losing you to that dread Lord of the Undead, after all we’ve been through, after all we’ve done, is a nightmare for me. I can’t let it happen, not to you, not to me. You deserve happiness. I want you to be happy. It drives me to protect you. It drives me to save you time and time again. I want you to live and be happy.”

“Kuroe,” Ariadne’s voice is now soft, she looks up to him now that he’s close to her, her big brown eyes drinking him in. “What are you trying to say?”

The half-breed takes a sharp inhale, taking in the image before him. She is so small beneath him, so fragile. The beast inside him growls.

“I don’t know what I feel.” He says, voice shaking. “The weeks of you not talking to me were some of the worst in my life. Not _the_ worst, obviously, what with being in captivity and all that shit. But it was hell for me, having you so close but so far away. I felt like I did something wrong. I felt like I upset you, and it’s a pain I cannot describe. Ari, I don’t know what I _feel_.”

The half-elf is silent to his confession, brown eyes scanning his face for some sign of jest. Her heart is racing in her chest, unsure of how to respond. She’s never seen Kuroe in this light before—not like she hasn’t imagined what it’d be like when on the road. He is strapping, for sure, handsome in all of his uniqueness. The last year or so, when they’ve grown so close, she’d imagined it even more. But never did she think he would return those fleeting thoughts, let alone their union being possible at all. Yet, he stands here, towering above her, pouring his heart out to her in this dingy Waterdeep inn. A chill runs down her spine. Meanwhile, Kuroe’s never felt this hot in his life in the late fall. His skin is burning, aching, begging for some sort of word from her. Her hesitation is killing him.

“Kuroe—”

“Don’t,” he interrupts, realizing now he prefers the silence; it’s less confusing. He brings a hand up to her neck, ears twitching as he hears her catch her breath, shivering under his affection. The half-breed can see the blood running to her face, her cheeks beginning to turn a lovely shade of pink. He’s close enough, now, to feel her breath puffing against his chest. So small, he thinks again. So fragile. The beast inside of him cannot take it anymore; it wants her. And _now_ , now that the words are out there, now that his feelings are known, what else does he have to lose? The beast pulls her body close to his before closing the gap entirely, pressing his lips against hers.

The contact. The contact feels like heaven. Her lips are softer than he could have ever imagined, not that he gave himself the luxury. He tries his best, always, to be respectful of his companion. But, lately, he cannot deny that his mind has wandered. It has pondered what her lips taste like; what they feel like, and now that he has them, he pities himself for having such a lack of imagination. Never could he have thought that she tastes this sweet. Never could he have imagined that her lips fit against his almost too perfectly. Never could he have imagined that this kiss could _ever_ happen. Ever since she’s brought him back to life, he’s craved this contact, and it makes so much sense now. That spark in his chest that ached, that spark in his chest that would pulse as he watched her walk away from him—that spark existed because of her. It makes sense, now, why he wanted to come back in the first place. Ariadne. Ariadne, who, in all her strength, is kind and sweet. Who, in all her wisdom, sees the best in him. Perhaps it was truly Ariadne who brought him back to life, in more ways than one.

Kuroe. For the gruff man that he normally is, his lips are soft and gentle, as is his grip around her neck. His fingers gently trace her jawline as the two of them stand there, connected. The half-elf hesitates for a moment, analyzing the situation she is in. So, this is a confession of his feelings—a rather physical one at that. Of course, being as imaginative as she can be, Ariadne has spent many a night wondering what it would be like to kiss him. She cannot deny that, especially within the last year after they had grown so close. Ariadne also can’t deny that longing drove her to save him. But, what she told him that day was also true: he deserves to live as a hero more than any of them. That wasn’t the full truth, though, as the thought of living without him was something she could not face, a feeling Kuroe shares. She couldn’t do it. She needed him. She needs him. And now, she wants him.

With a small sigh, she urges him to continue by reaching her arms up to wrap them around his neck, and the beast inside howls in response. Kuroe snakes his hand through her hair, anchoring her head there before opening his mouth to kiss her again, again, and again. She is pliant beneath him, letting him do as he pleases. He becomes lost in her lips, unable to stop. Ariadne moans into his mouth, and he snarls, the action causing him to accidentally clamp down on her lip, which in turn causes her to pull back and yelp. The sight of blood beginning to pool at her now-swollen lip sends Kuroe into a panic, bringing his hands to his head. He shouldn’t have let himself go that far, he thinks. He should have asked permission. He should have…

“I’m…I’m sorry,” he says watching her slender fingers gently press against her lip, causing her to flinch. The pain in her face fills him with dread, and he hates himself in that moment; he hates that he forced himself on her, hates that no matter how human she makes him feel, the beast inside of him still controls him, makes him a monster. He should have never kissed her, in the end. After all, she could never love a beast. She could never love a monster.

Before Ariadne can look up from her attention to her lip, he turns on his heel and exits the room. The half-elf ponders his words, his actions. At times like this, her logical mind seems like a cage. Her head is filled with questions that demand answers, but her heart—oh, her heart is screaming at her to follow him.

 _Go after him_ , her heart says. To go after him, she thinks, is a decision that carries a lot of weight. Regardless of the implications, her body moves, reaching for the door. Do they have the time to do this? Her legs carry her down the hall, down the stairs. Is it smart, given their shared lifestyles? Her eyes scan the tavern downstairs, but there is no sight of him. Her heart is beating out of her chest as she leaves the inn. It is there, in the middle of a busy Waterdeep street that she realizes she has missed her chance; there’s no sight of him. With a shaky sigh, the half-elf returns to her room, sinking to the floor as tears run down her face.

“You stupid bitch,” she tells herself, rubbing her hands against her temples. “Think faster.”

 

~~~~

 

It has been almost a week since the kiss, and Ariadne finds herself thrown back into her work as soon as she returns to the fort. A sickness has befallen the village of Canonswede, and Balasar and Ariadne have worked day and night to try and find the source and heal those that have been affected. Once they determined that it wasn’t magical in origin, they ordered a quarantine area be made for those who have fallen ill. Balasar uses his magic for the more advanced cases—those who are too far gone to be saved by medicine, and Ariadne uses what little she has in her personal stores to treat those who can be treated. Thankfully, due to her knowledge of the Teleport spell, she is able to go to Waterdeep to find more supplies if needed. But, Ariadne and Balasar are fairly skilled, and in just a few days, they have managed to maintain sickness within the quarantine zone. Now, they do their best to treat those that remain sick.

“Open.” Ariadne says to a child that lie before her. The dwarf-child shakes her head at the sight of the spoon filled with thick, black ichor, and Ariadne clicks her tongue.

“If you don’t take this you can’t leave this place. You don’t want to be in this place, do you?”

“N-no.”

“Nobody does. You want to go out and play, right?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Well, if you take this,you will start to feel better, and you will be outside playing in the leaves in no time.”

The child gasps.

“Really?”

“Really.”

Finally, the dwarf-child opens her mouth, allowing Ariadne to gently administer the medicine. The girl makes a grimace as she swallows, but Ariadne pats her head in encouragement once she sees that she’s downed it all.

“I know it tastes bad. But, it will help you.”

“Do you think I can go play in the leaves, now?”

Ariadne smiles.

“Take that a few more times, and then we will see. I promise.”

At that, Ariadne lifts off her cot and makes her way to Balasar, who is busy healing one of the elderly that had fallen ill. The dragonborn looks tired, and rightfully so; the repetitive use of healing spells over the course of a few days has left him exhausted. Bahamut only gives him the ability to heal a few times a day, and sometimes, it’s not enough to alleviate the sickness entirely. For the elderly, who are especially susceptible, sometimes it takes multiple healings in order for them to become fully healed of the sickness. Whatever this plague is, it’s nasty, even for powers from a God.

“How is he?” Ariadne asks, and Balasar makes note of her presence with a nod.

“He seems weak, still. But there are twelve here that are considered terminal. I have to work hard to make sure they stay alive.”

“Is that your last spell for the day?”

“No. I have one more.”

“I’ll try to administer a double dose of the poultice to those you can’t make it to just yet.”

“Thank you, Ari. I just…I don’t want to lose anyone.”

“There’s only the two of us. We can only do so much with this many people sick.”

The dragonborn nods, the golden light slowly disappearing from his hands. The spell is done, and the elderly man’s breathing begins to ease. At that sign, Ariadne finds the group of terminally ill and begins administering as much as she can. However, once she makes it to the second bed, a familiar twinge of magic begins to spark at the edge of her fingertips. Her eyes dart from her hands to the elderly woman that lie before her, and quickly, she checks for any signs of life.

 _Dead._ A voice inside her head whispers. _Dead_.

Her fingers making contact with the patient causes the sensation in her fingertips to spark, like touching something too hot. She looks over to Balasar, who is already healing his last patient, and she decides it is not the time to tell him. Instead, she gently lifts off the cot and moves to the next, the voice inside her head slowly disappearing as she does. With a sigh, she pours more of the poultice into a spoon before giving it to the next patient.

Ariadne continues this for some time, but once she finishes her rounds, she notices that Balasar is finished as well. With a sigh, she decides to tell him the news.

“Bal,” she says softly. “The elderly halfling over there, she’s—”

“Dead?”

“Yeah.”

Balasar shakes his head, clearly taking this defeat harder than she expected. By the time they had arrived in Canonswede to address the situation, only one had died. Balasar tried to keep that number. But, as Ariadne reminds him, there’s nothing they could have done any differently. The dragonborn tries to take her words with comfort, but he just mumbles some sort of retort before walking over to the cot, wrapping the sheets around the small halfling body before taking it outside of the quarantined building. As he does this, Ariadne looks around to see if the other patients have taken notice—thankfully, most of them are resting and haven’t, so peace will still remain intact. The last thing these people need is to be filled with panic.

After that afternoon, Balasar excuses himself to sleep in order to regain his strength. Ariadne keeps a tight vigilance over the patients during that time, offering them anything they need. But, when Balasar returns that evening, he tells Ariadne to take a break, and she sighs happily at the thought of it; she needs one.

“I think I’m going to walk back to the fort, if that’s okay.” She says.

“Why?”

“I just want to…”

“Oh. Kuroe.”

The half-elf does a decent job at hiding the twinge of embarrassment that comes from the obvious deduction.

“I’m worried about him.”

“He’s a wolf, Ari. If he went out in the woods, he’ll be fine. But, you can go back to the fort if you want. That’s what I did.”

She utters a word of thanks before leaving, beginning her brief walk back to the fort. During that time, her mind wanders back and forth between her patients and Kuroe. While she is treating them, she remains focused, not allowing her mind to think of anything but their wellbeing. But, now that she has a break, all of the thoughts she has repressed for the day begin to ricochet across her skull. She stops for a moment on the road, taking a deep breath to recollect herself. Once her thoughts come into order, the prevailing thought is of Kuroe and his silver hair. She continues her walk with a sigh, gait slightly springy as she continues to think of him.

“You are a fool, Ariadne,” she says to herself, smiling at the thought of his tail swaying. “You are a fool to waste time on thinking about this. You had your chance to tell him how you feel, and now he’s gone. Who knows where he went? Who knows if he will still feel the same when he comes back? You hesitated, and now you lost. Stop thinking about him.”

She playfully pats the side of her head when the fort comes into view.

“Besides, he probably bit you because you were a bad kisser.”

As she makes her way to the fort entrance, she opens the small side door to let herself in. Ariadne scrapes some of the mud off her boots before trailing it all through the fort, and it is then that she hears something coming from the courtyard. It’s a familiar sound: the sound of training. There’s only one person who trains in the courtyard, and only one person who would train at this time of night.

“Kuroe,” she says softly before making her way towards the sound. She does not notice that her feet carry her in more of a sprint than a casual walk, so when she finally reaches the courtyard, she is curious as to why she is suddenly out of breath.

There he is, though, standing tall and beautiful before her. He stops what he is doing and turns to her, his silver hair glowing in the moonlight. For a moment, she stops breathing, and she knows, now, she cannot see him in the same way again. He’s not just Kuroe anymore. He’s not just her companion. No, he’s much more now. Not just because of the kiss—well, the kiss helped—but _everything_ that’s happened between them. Everything that has built up to this moment has helped Ariadne realize just how much she…she loves him. The moonlight probably helps, too.

Kuroe, being the direct creature he is, puts his practice sword down and walks over to the gate of the training ring where she stands, and he awkwardly rubs a hand behind his neck before speaking.

“I’m sorry for…all of that.” He says, mirroring the last words he spoke to her. “I didn’t mean to…to do that. I was out of line.”

Ariadne’s brow furrows at his apology, and she cocks her head. Kuroe takes this as a sign to continue, and that the apology he gives is not enough.

“I should’ve asked for permission. I should’ve made sure it was okay with you. I mean, we were yellin’ at each other and then I just…I don’t know, it was bad form. I’m sorry.”

Ariadne sighs; it is her turn to build up the courage to tell him how she feels. It is only fair to him, as he spilled out his soul to her that day as best he could.

“I’m not mad at you.” She starts, but the half-breed’s eyes widen in shock at the admission.

“You aren’t?”

“What—Kuroe, no, I’m not mad at—”

“But I—I bit you?” The statement is phrased more of a question, as he is unsure if she remembers.

“I know, but—shhh! Let me finish!”

His ears lie flat against his head at her tone; she will apologize for it later. 

“Anyways…I’m not mad at you—for kissing me or for biting me or for yelling at me or whatever. I’m not mad at you for any of that. I really liked that kiss. In fact, I have wanted you to kiss me for a long time, but I just didn’t realize it until you did. Does…does that make sense?”

“No.”

The half-elf awkwardly tucks some of her hair behind her ear.

“Well…I suppose I should start with—well, should I go back that far?”

“Ariadne…”

“Sorry, sorry…You remember that night when I took off your necklace?”

“I’ll never forget it.”

“Right. Well, that’s when this all started, I guess. My…feelings, I suppose.”

Ariadne waits for some sort of retort, but finds that Kuroe is listening intently, eyes watching her closely. His attention causes her heart to race, and she clears her throat to continue.

“You always said you were surprised when I agreed to go to the Shadowfell so easily. I was, too. I didn’t understand it, at first. But, now it makes sense. It’s because I want to be near you at all times, you know? When you aren’t near me, I can’t…function well, I guess. When I knew you wanted to go there, I knew you’d probably find a way if I refused, but…knowing that you’d be gone to that place…by yourself…I couldn’t do it. I had to go with you.”

“And you’re paying the price for it…” Kuroe says softly, and Ariadne shakes her head as she takes a step forward.

“I’ve never held that against you, Kuroe. It was my decision to go. You never forced me. I wanted to go with you, please don’t feel bad about that. After all, the training we have done has helped. I don’t have as many nightmares about it, now.”

“Good.”

“And…to add on to that, when…when you died, I—I was beside myself, Kuroe. I couldn’t let you stay dead. I absolutely couldn’t. I had to do _something_. What I told you that day was true—I wanted you to live as a hero. I truly meant that. But, what I didn’t tell you, probably because I didn’t understand it myself, was that I—I can’t live without you, Kuroe. I can’t. The thought of it makes me physically sick to my stomach. So I fought to bring you back. So…so you could be with me again.”

Ariadne pauses for a moment, looking down at her boots in embarrassment. She’s always been the type of person to say what’s on her mind, but when it comes to feelings like this…it’s a little difficult for her to be so vulnerable with someone, even Kuroe. But as she kicks the dirt beneath her , she is shocked when Kuroe reaches forward, gently urging her to look at him with the crook of his finger. What she sees before her is a man that she loves, smiling softly with the faintest hint of tears in his eyes. The sight causes her to sigh happily, knowing that her feelings are still somewhat reciprocated.

“I’m sorry I didn’t chase after you.” She says. “I wanted to, but…I wasn’t fast enough to catch you. To tell you that it was okay.”

“But why? Why do you have these feelings…for me?”

“Why not?”

“Ariadne, I’m…I’m a monster.”

“Monster?”

“I’m not who you deserve.”

“But…I don’t care about all of that. I don’t. You are who I want.”

At that, the half-elf stands on her toes to place her lips upon his. But, soon, she parts from him with a small grunt.

“Oh, sorry—I meant…can I kiss you?”

The half-breed smiles, bringing his hands up to cup her face.

“Yeah, I guess so.”

He leans down to kiss her, and she sighs, wrapping her arms around his neck just like in the inn. This kiss is far less awkward, far less surprising, and filled with much more feeling. The two of them stand there connected for just a moment before Ariadne parts her lips slightly, encouraging him to move. He does, laughing softly into her mouth at the thought of her forwardness. They kiss like this or what seems like ages, but Ariadne parts from him with a loud smack, leaving Kuroe slightly confused and…wanting.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I almost completely forgot—as much as I want to keep kissing you, I have to wash up and sleep. You’ve heard about the village, right?”

“Uh…no.”

“Oh…well, a sickness has befallen it. Balasar is keeping watch now, and it’s my turn to sleep.”

“Do…do you have to?”

“Yes, I—”

Kuroe leans down to kiss her again, and all of Ariadne’s hesitation melts away for a moment. He parts from her with a grin, and she sighs. This is officially the start of something new. Might as well make a joke about it.

“I guess this makes us a thing, now.”

“A what?”

“A thing.”

“What is a thing?”

Ariadne shrugs.

“You know, a ‘thing thing.’”

The half-breed cocks his head, ears twitching curiously as his tail sways behind him. Ariadne laughs, gently patting his chest.

“You will figure it out, Kuroe.” She starts to walk away, but turns around on her heel before she disappears into the staircase. “You’ll be here when I wake up, right?”

The half-breed nods.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Ariadne gives him a sleepy smile.

“Good.”


End file.
